Adding Fire to Fire
by Ranowa Hikura
Summary: When an explosion takes out their train, Ed learns something about Mustang: the Flame Alchemist can start fires. He can't put them out. Parental RoyEd.
1. Chapter 1

Soooo extremely happy to be posting this one. Soooo happy. I've been working on it the whole four weeks I've been in Spain (my home's USA) and I'm posting this first chapter just a few hours after my flight back home. Mostly just Roy, Ed, and Al in the beginning, although Maes will work his way here too by the end. Because, like probably everyone else, I simply LOVE him, and unless there's some plot reason he has to be dead for, anything I write will have him alive. This'll be a relatively short fic, only a few chapters, and it's already complete, minus the final scene. Because this chapter is so short, I hope to update tomorrow. Hopefully should keep to a relatively good update schedule overall, as well. Hope you enjoy!

 **Prologue**

The first time Roy broke Master Berthold's law against what was forbidden and set fire without his express permission, his master found out, because his master always did.

The first time was the only time, because his master then beat him for an hour.

"You think fire is a game, Mustang?! You think you've earned the right to play with fire?!"

Steel-toed boot smashing against fragile ribs. Walking stick whirling to shatter against his shoulder, splinters of the remains digging into his flesh and the remains thrown against his face.

" _No one_ has the right to play with fire! Fire is not your toy, Mustang! You play with fire, and _you will get burnt!"_

Foot crushing against his wrist until it broke.

"You will respect fire! You will respect its power, and you will respect that it does not exist to serve you!"

Crawling on his hands and knees... coughing to taste blood...

"Get the fuck back on the ground! Did I say you could get up?!"

Blow against his spine, and a mouthful of mud to his face.

"You want to watch something burn so bad, Mustang?! _Watch!"_

 _Snap._

 _Woosh- crackle crack- woosh- crackle crack..._

" _AAAAAGHHH!"_

Fire burned, and flesh smoked.

"You want to control fire?! You think this is something you can take lightly?! Then put it out, Mustang! Put out the fire!"

" _Ahhhh- ahhhhhhh- AHHHHHH-!"_

"Put it out, Mustang!"

But he couldn't, he realized at last, rolling in the mud and screaming until his throat was raw.

He couldn't, because he'd never been taught how to put out a fire.

" _Put it out!"_

His master's hand grabbed at his shirt again and yanked him up off the ground, eyes boring into his own. Hot gold flickered, reflected in an unforgiving stare, and Roy bucked and gasped, the heat of agony choking him until he could not even think.

Fire roared.

"You can't put it out, Mustang," his master hissed, and when his head started to fall a hand grabbed him by the chin and _forced_ him to look. "We are Flame Alchemists. We can create fire, but once we've made it, we _can not_ control it, and we _can not_ put it out. So I'm telling you right now to realize that every time you create a flame, you be prepared for it to turn around and bite you, or turn on another and bite them."

Fire hissed and crackled, licking over flesh and eagerly devouring sanity.

His master never put it out. He was left to scramble and try to control the blaze himself, screeching in agony until the rain came, and he passed out in the mud.

 _We can not put it out._

The lesson was learned.

 **Chapter 1**

Roy knew from the moment the minuscule nuisance appeared on the train platform that his trip to the east was destined for misery.

He'd pulled on the blinds when he'd seen the kid and his brother on the platform and sunk down lower into his seat, inwardly hoping that it was just a coincidence, and they were only seeing someone off, not headed on their next assignment. When he'd heard Ed loudly complaining that his next mission was taking him out to the slums of East City, he'd groaned but quickly recovered hope. Same train? Fine; that didn't mean the brothers had to know he was there. He would just keep his silence, avoid any notice by Ed, and take the train ride in peace.

"I knew we shouldn't have waited until the last train of the week; all the seats are full!"

"Brother, you were the one who wanted to wait!"

" _Because_ I thought Winry was coming to Central! _Agh!_ Where are we supposed to sit?!"

Roy groaned and slid even further down in his seat. _And, here it comes..._

The screech of recognition was just as loud, tortuous, and impossibly _annoying_ as he'd expected it to be.

"You! What are _you_ doing here?!"

Roy cracked an eye open, glaring at the nuisance from between his fingers. "Same thing as you, I imagine. ...Midget."

Alphonse had to hold his brother back from chucking his suitcase right at his head.

A crackly voice called out over the intercom system for all the passengers to take their seats, and Ed and his brother looked around again before, with a very loud groan from the older one, the pair dropped down in the seat across from him.

A vein throbbed in his forehead.

"What, pray tell, do you think you are doing?"

Ed scowled deeply and folded his arms, and oh, if looks could kill, Roy got the feeling he'd be on a skewer right now. "Look, I'm not happy about it either, Colonel Bastard. But there aren't any other seats open. The train's full."

He'd already known that, of course. Just held out some small bit of hope that he would be able to get the Elrics out of his hair, hope that had just died a very sad death.

 _Although..._ If he was going to be miserable, Roy decided, grinning, then might as well commit all the way. He lowered his hand to loosen his collar, barely managing to hide a small smirk, then gestured around the train. "Really? I understand Al's problem, but there's a dog just a few seats ahead. Why don't you jump on to his collar for the ride?"

Once again, Al was the only thing keeping Ed in his seat. Even then, the flailing legs caught him once in the knee- he was quite sure it had been Fullmetal's automail that was the culprit, given the way it stung- and he nursed the swelling in silence for the rest of the trip.

Definitely worth it.

* * *

The train to East City was a good five hours of travel, with a stopover in Nowheresville midway through that wasted another hour. The Elrics- though he'd been worried only about one in particular- mercifully understood that a train ride was not the time to be the incessant pests that usually plagued his office, and were quiet.

...Even though it wasn't really their fault they were usually so annoying, as Roy quite purposefully antagonized Fullmetal into being said pest as often as he could get the chance.

However, six hours was a long time to sit silently, even for Roy; Ed lost his patience somewhere during the climb up the mountain pass and stood to stretch, yawning hugely. "I'm going for a walk," he announced, and Roy raised an eyebrow, bemused.

Ed scowled at him. "Don't look at me like that, Colonel Bastard. These long rides make my joints hurt, all right?"

"Aren't you a little too young for arthritis?"

Ed shrugged, looking just this side of sticking his tongue out at him. "Sure, and you're a little too old to be an unmarried pervert-slut that has no shame when flirting while drunk, but we all do what we gotta do."

"Brother!"

Ed snickered under his breath, waving to his brother before starting off on his trek up the train car, still smirking. Roy rolled his eyes; _dammed kid,_ but he wasn't about to get up and chase after him for _that,_ so it did appear that the midget had won this round.

"Er, sorry about that, Colonel," Al ventured nervously, when Ed had made it out of earshot and headed into the next train car. "He's just... it's complicated."

Roy glanced at soulfire eyes and shook his head, telling him without words the apology was unnecessary. He looked again after where his youngest subordinate had disappeared to and dropped his voice, carefully ensuring any curious passengers listening in would get the hint to stop. "It's his automail, isn't it?"

Al shifted with a loud clunk of armor, looking over his shoulder after his brother as well. "Yes. It's been a while since he's been back for Winry to service it- he's outgrowing it again. His shoulder's worse than his leg, I think, but he won't really tell me. How'd you know?"

Roy smiled faintly. He tried to hide it behind his hand for a moment before he just shrugged to himself and gave up; Al wasn't his subordinate and never would be, if Ed had anything to say about it. No reason to try and hide it. "Never tell him I said this, Al, but I did notice that he..." He paused, searching around the train car again to absolutely _ensure_ the boy was nowhere even close to being in earshot. "...he's grown."

"But you still called him shrimp the second you saw him!"

Roy waved off the comment unconcernedly. "If you recall, Al, that was only after he had said hello with _nice to see you again, Colonel Bastard._ "

"Only because you keep calling him short!"

"Yes, yes," Roy murmured, smile widening, and he shook his head fondly before allowing the levity to fade. "My point being, I took a look at his recent missions that night; none of them have been near Risembool at all. I figured he was having some problems with his automail." That was why he had given the brothers this mission to the east at all, actually. The lead on the stone wasn't very solid, but it would bring them close enough to their home that Fullmetal would be able to make a stop.

Not that he could ever tell either brother that, of course.

Al sighed sadly, leaning back in his seat. "I've tried telling him before to go to get it serviced whenever he thinks he needs it. But, you know him, Colonel; won't listen to anybody but himself. Following leads on the Stone is most important to him- even his own health, he neglects..."

Roy sighed as well. Of course he did. The Stone, Ed sought for his brother, and he'd have to blind to be oblivious to the fact that the devotion the two brothers had for one another went above and beyond any other commitment in their lives. Even if the Elrics had come to befriend the others in the unit- and Roy wasn't sure sometimes, but he had began to suspect Ed's friendship extended even to him as well, and that the warm feeling in his chest that grew every time he heard the pair was back in town wasn't _just_ because his favorite object for teasing was back...

But, anything that Ed or Al felt towards him, Hawkeye, or the others, it would never even come close to rivaling the devotion they had towards each other. Roy was absolutely certain that one would die for the other with no hesitation. The idea that Ed would postpone his search for the Stone and his brother's body, just to ease a little physical discomfort... it was laughable.

Roy frowned a little, thinking of the foolish risks he'd begun to take on his own behalf, concerning the Elric brothers. Going after Scar- in the loathsome _rain,_ no less... foolhardy was the only word to describe it, but at the time he'd thought nothing of the rain at all, or the fact that, as Ed so lovingly described it, he was one hundred percent _useless when wet._

He'd just heard Scar was chasing the Elrics throughout the city and headed out into the rain without a second thought.

 _If Fullmetal had done something so stupid, I would NEVER let him live it down._

Not that Hawkeye had been particularly pleased with him that day, either...

But he hadn't been thinking. That was the problem- his pathetic thought process that day had just been _Ed - Scar- in danger._

 _Tch_. To think, he could chastise Fullmetal one day for taking a dammed stupid risk for his brother's behalf, and then the next take an even stupider one himself- _again,_ for those two brothers. Ridiculous. Fullmetal's rash and reckless influence had to be wearing off on him.

Sighing, Roy reminded himself there was no use in rehashing that day's events and looked away from Alphonse, turning his gaze instead towards the window and blinking at the sky above. There wasn't a cloud in sight, and he grinned a little at the dry heat. "Perfect weather for a fire," he remarked quietly.

"...That's a little morbid, Colonel."

Roy grinned again, glancing back at the boy.

The train car exploded before he could reply.


	2. Chapter 2

Wow, thanks for all the reviews/hits! This one is going to be the slowest chapter, I think. I'm mostly just setting up Roy/Al and Ed's situations right now, so I can get things really moving next chapter :) I've also divided out my draft into chapters; this will be seven chapters long- maybe eight, if I decide to split the final chapter into two parts. Hope you all enjoy!

* * *

 _Ow._

Good lord, _ow._

It took Roy far more time than he was comfortable with to register anything more than that.

The dammed _pain_ was all over his body; stinging through his shoulders, burning through his legs, aching through his back, _screaming_ through his chest, and son of a bitch, do _not_ even get him started on his head.

The stunning, desert heat was another matter entirely.

Sweat dripped down from his face in obscene amounts, and his shirt was already soaked with something; if it wasn't blood then sweat seemed like a very likely second guess. The dry crackle of heat was positively _murderous-_ but it was also familiar, and it was that familiarity that forced him to slowly drag open his eyes and begin the assessment.

And it was _bad._

Fire hissed as the only light in what would otherwise be complete darkness, flickering in flying sparks that rushed through the hot air in a chaotic storm of blistering heat. It crawled through utter destruction, debris and rubble surrounding him in the close space and leaving him nearly trapped, unable to rise more than a crouch and forced to move in a crawl.

If he could move, that was, which was something he didn't quite possess the strength to do just yet.

 _What... what the hell... happened?_

His head pounded, and Roy weakly raised a hand to rub it. His fingers came away wet with blood that glistened a ruby gold in the firelight, and he stared at it, completely at a loss.

Slowly, one by one, the memories returned to him. Train ride to East City. Edward and Alphonse's unexpected appearance to join him for the trip. Edward leaving, complaining about his automail and needing a walk. And then...

Nothing.

"A crash?" he whispered weakly aloud; his voice was barely a croak and he glared at the whirls of smoke, knowing it was to blame. "No, because all this fire... then it could've only been from a gas explosion, and we'd all be dead... but then..."

Roy abruptly stopped dead.

A final memory, of looking at Al and seeing him looking back with what just might possibly have been the closest thing that boy was capable of to a smile.

And then...

" _ALPHONSE!"_

The hoarse scream tore agonizingly from a ravaged throat, and Roy yanked himself forward on his hands and knees, dislodging bits of flaming debris from above him and cowering under the rain of sparks without even feeling the pain of it. _"Al! AL! AL?! Al, if you can hear me, SAY SOMETHING!"_

"Colonel! Colonel, I'm fine! I'm over here!"

Roy gasped with the relief of it, crumbling down to land on his chest again and just riding out the pain. Thank _god._ Al could not be knocked unconscious or senseless. If he hadn't responded then, there would've been only one possible outcome- an outcome Roy did not think he could've faced.

"Colonel?"

He grunted, rousing a little, and tried to turn his head after the voice before pain shot through his shoulder like an electric shot. Roy gasped again, the limb throbbing in protest now, and he blinked wildly against the pain. "Ah-hah..." he panted, fighting to recover his senses. Hot fire burned across his shoulder and down his arm and through his chest, and his vision sloshed like water in a bucket and his head swam, concussion confirmed beyond all certainty now. "You're g-going to h-h-have to come to me, Al... something's wrong with my shoulder. C-can't turn my head all the... w-way."

There was a nervous silence, broken only by the continuous hiss and crackle of flame that licked all around them. At last, his voice echoing against his armor, Al called out, "I can't get to you! I can see you, but there's something blocking my way, and I- I don't want to risk moving it in case it dislodges something and just makes it worse."

There was logic in that, but also something in his voice that gave Roy pause. Unable to turn fully to face him, though, there was nothing Roy could do to call him out on it. Groaning, he started trying to work himself upright into a pathetic little crawl again, calling out the results of his self assessment as he went. "Few broken bones, I think... nothing too serious. Al, what the hell happened?"

"I have no idea! The train just- everything blasted apart. I don't know, it all happened so quickly... I'm sorry, Colonel."

Roy grimaced, still trying to shift around enough to be able to see the boy for himself. There was no need for an apology, although he didn't quite have the breath to tell him that, so he just kept his silence instead. There were still many unanswered questions about the crash, but his most pressing concern was getting to Al, and, after that, tracking down Ed.

It was looking like the origin of the explosion had been very close to where they'd been sitting. Bad news for him, but good news for Ed; his subordinate most likely had fared better than them, and there was a chance he was unharmed entirely. But the uncertainty of Ed's welfare still left him with a leaden weight settled in his stomach, and it was only Al's proximity to him now that had him focused on the younger brother rather than the older.

Gritting his teeth, Roy shoved himself the last few inches around in his 180 turn. The motion tore at his shoulder and a whimper crawled out of his throat, the white hot pain eclipsing even his ability to breathe and leaving his vision spiraling in a sickening, fading tunnel vision. Roy slumped, gasping, eyes squeezed shut, and just lay against the floor, just trying to stave off unconsciousness until the pain had eased enough for him to do something besides try not to scream.

Passing out in this state could be fatal, and he needed to avoid it at all cost.

"Um, Colonel? Are you all right? You- you haven't said anything in a while..."

Roy jolted. "F-fine," he gasped, though his attempt to make the word sound at all convincing failed completely. Clenching his fist, Roy forced himself to stay calm and opened his eyes again, now that he was facing Al actually looking for him in an attempt to just distract himself from the pain.

Predictably, the boy was in far better shape than he was. The suit of armor was looking at him, craning his neck to see through a gap in the rubble, but he was actually sitting upright, too, something that felt far beyond Roy at the moment. The only concern he still had was that the boy was whole, and from this vantage point, it was difficult to ascertain that- but he seemed to at least have his torso and he could catch a glimpse of one arm.

 _Well, I guess there are some benefits to not having a human body,_ he thought wryly, and managed a smile, though no trace of amusement existed in him. _Explosions don't leave you feeling like you just got run over by a train._

Roy let himself flop to the ground again, straining to hold Al's gaze. A cloud of ash and glowing sparks drifted between them, gliding on a current of unbearably hot air, and he couldn't help a cough. "You... you manage to talk to your brother yet?" he asked slowly, anxiety rising at the mention of the missing Elric, and rising even further still when Al shook his head.

"No. I've been yelling for him for a while, but- he won't answer me."

The quaver in his voice was unmistakable, and Roy swallowed, trying not to give into the panic that was struggling to overtake him. Al had probably been panicking enough for the both of them, and besides, it would do no good. They had no way of knowing how far away from their train car Ed had made it before the explosion. The most likely explanation was simply that he'd been knocked unconscious and was unable to answer them.

That was just what he was going to have to believe, because the alternatives were too horrible to consider.

"Don't worry, Al." Wincing, Roy began to slowly bring himself up again, still breathing hard but wanting to at least try and sit. The plan ended abruptly when he had to lean to dodge a downfall of flaming rubble from above and his shoulder punished him for it again, sending him to his stomach in another shockwave of pain. He hit the hot metal of the floor face first, cheek smudging against ash, and with that Roy just shut his eyes and gave up.

"W-w-we... we'll look f-for Ed... soon as we get ourselves out of this, Al..."

"...Right."

Roy could hear the reluctance in his voice, and knew Al, at the moment, was having to struggle to not burst straight out of the rubble and instantly begin the search for his brother. Al would survive, no question- but shifting the wreckage so violently could very easily spell the end of everyone else left in the train car, himself included.

He shook his head slightly, relieved that Al could control himself more than his brother could, then sent another glance around the fiery ruins.

"Al, you see anybody else on your side? We need to get everyone out that we can, before this fire gets any worse."

This time, there was no pause, and he could tell the boy had already reached the same conclusion and looked around for all the people he could help. "There are six people alive, with varying states of injury. There's also someone else, but... I don't think he'll make it."

Roy gritted his teeth but said nothing to that, instead looking around to add up his own body count. "Four over here." No need to mention the three dead. "...You got any ideas on how to get them out of here?" Because, whether it was pounding head, the fact that he was still barely a few minutes away from dead unconsciousness, or that he could barely manage to think straight, Roy had nothing.

Clearly, Al had already been thinking this one over, too, because he came right back with an answer. "It's too dangerous to try and shift the rubble around; it could trigger a collapse. But- I was thinking, Colonel- if we can't go straight out... why not try under?"

 _Under..._ "You mean make a tunnel?" he asked, allowing himself a small grin only because none of his subordinates were there to see it. Damn, the kid was brilliant.

"Yes! I know we're on a cliffside, so the ground might not be stable enough, but it's the best thing I've come up with so far. What do you think?"

Roy nodded thoughtfully, going over the tracks in his mind. Another swarm of sparks crackled overhead and though it took just about all his strength, he managed to pull his military jacket up and over his head with the one working arm he had, protecting what he could. Whatever they were going to do, they had to do it fast.

"If I recall correctly, Al," he called back at last, "while there are some areas through these mountains known for landslides, this isn't one of them. Not ideal, but I don't think we'll be able to manage anything better. Go for it, Al."

There was a short silence.

Then, nervously, came the uncertain and anxious question.

"Er... me?"

"Yes, you," Roy snapped waspishly, and his shoulder throbbed again. "I might be able to make it out, by with my arm like this I won't be able to take anyone with me. Come on, what's the problem? It was your idea in the first place."

"Yes, well..." Al trailed off nervously, his voice suddenly shifting from confident to anxious again, and in it Roy could hear the same unspoken truth he'd reached earlier: the boy was hiding something. "...I can't get out, either."

"...What are you talking about?"

Al hesitated, looking away from him as if he knew a scolding was about to come his way. "...My legs are missing, Colonel. Both of them."

When the words finally sunk in, Roy's slightly less injured arm trembled and then just gave out on him. He dropped to lie on his stomach, blinking against the hot earth, the enormity of the situation hitting him then with all the force of a physical blow.

 _Well, fuck._

Right now, Roy just did not have it in him to yell at the boy for not telling him this earlier. He just... didn't.

"...Sorry, Colonel," Al said quietly at last, nervous voice barely audible against the ominous crackle of fire. "I didn't want to worry you, and, well, as you know, I'm really still fine, just-"

"I know, Al," he grunted, voice flat and monotonous. _Come on, Al... just let me stew here for a moment and realize just how much more difficult this situation has become._

The snapping of already strained wood cracked out above him, and Roy just blinked, too drained to do anything but watch the piece of rubble smash down inches from his face. It uplifted a cloud of hot ash that stung against eyes that were squeezed shut, and no matter how familiar the blistering crackle of fire was he could not help but flinch.

He was used to fire turning on him, used to icing his own burnt fingers, used to watching the enemy burn even while his own blisters formed against the heat. Fire was tenacious, after all, and no matter how careful he was, no matter how perfect his transmutations, there were just too many factors outside of his control. All he could ever do was simply limit the fallout so only his own hand was burned, and not the others that stood by innocently in the crossfire.

Roy supposed that was what was bothering him so much now.

He couldn't limit this fire. It had already spread too far, and now, all he could do was watch it burn.

 _Ah, melodramatic much, are you? Your alchemy won't be much help, but you were always taught to use flame only as a last resort, anyway... you have other options, Roy. You just need to use them._

Grimacing again, Roy told the smug voice in his head that sounded disturbingly like Berthold to shut up and raised his head to look at Al once more. Clearing his throat hurt, smoke burning at the inside of his mouth, and his voice was already becoming hoarse, but a sore throat was hardly the worst he was going to get out of this. He _did_ have other options besides alchemy- but first, he had to learn more about just what the hell had actually happened. "This fire, Al. How did this fire start?"

"What?"

He gestured vaguely with one hand before remembering Al probably couldn't see it and groaned. "Did it start with the explosion? Or did it come later? Did it start from one point and spread? Or was it everywhere immediately?"

"Ah... it started with the explosion, Colonel. And it was everywhere immediately."

Roy cursed, and this time, it wasn't only because of the pain.

The gravity of the situation took him again, this time leaving him slumped without breath or strength against the burning metal of the floor. Al couldn't fight, he could barely move, they were both trapped here, Ed was nowhere to be found, and now, on top of everything else...

"Wait, what does that mean, Colonel?"

Roy raised his eyes to meet Al's. He squinted through the sparks and cleared his throat again, somehow managing to find his voice and explain just how much deeper the trouble they were in had gotten.

"It means, Al, that this was a controlled explosion. ...Whatever happened wasn't an accident. Someone tried to take out this train."

Al just stared at him then, frozen now as he slowly grasped what Roy had just understood. When he finally managed to speak, all he said was a simple, "...Oh.", but, it was all that needed to be said.

In his voice, Roy had heard every bit of anxiety and restrained fear he was now battling himself, and he managed a weak, bitter grin, nodding once and never once breaking Al's gaze.

"Yeah."

Like they had needed more bad news.

* * *

Fortunately for Ed, the explosion hadn't quite managed to knock him unconscious.

Just barely not, actually, if the swelling knot at the back of his head was any indication- but he was still awake.

And, by the pain he was in, not really that happy about it.

The explosion itself had been minor enough, sending the train careening to a stop and causing quite a few screams from the patrons of the first class car he'd wandered into- flashing his watch and claiming it was for military business but really just on the hunt for the higher quality grub they got up there. However, while the explosion had not left him in danger, the landslide it had triggered had.

Ed had barely managed to stop it from smashing until the train car. Even then, the split second transmutation of the largest boulder into dust hadn't managed to stop the smaller one tumbling behind it- and he'd been helpless to do anything but cover his head.

Which lead to his current predicament of being pinned.

Ed scowled again, tugging in vain at his automail leg. Thankfully it was the only part of him that was stuck underneath the boulder, so at least he wasn't really in any pain, but _damn it_ was this unfortunate. He couldn't reach the boulder to transmute it off of himself- could barely even reach his legs- and until another alchemist came along, he was _stuck._ Ed _hated_ being stuck, damn it, he _hated_ it!

"Agh... come on, Al, what's taking you?" he complained under his breath, flopping onto his back with a whuff of air. He did really hope it'd be his brother who found him first, and not Mustang. While either one could transmute the boulder off of him, Mustang would certainly get a good laugh out at the sight of him trapped like this. Bastard.

He tried to focus on his annoyance at the very mention of the colonel, because if he didn't, all that was left to feel was the slow but undeniably growing sense of worry.

Because Al really should've found him by now.

When one of the train's engineers sidled up to him, wielding a bottle of water, Ed accepted it without words and made himself sit up, guzzling half of it in one gulp. "Thanks," he gasped, finally clearing his dry throat. "What's the situation now?"

The engineer shrugged, dropping down to sit by his side since Ed couldn't very well move to stand by his. "Not great. We've called out a report to the nearest city but it'll take at least three hours for anyone to reach us. I've got a few people looking back at the second and third train cars... some pretty bad injuries in the second, but the third, well- it's not looking good. The fire and debris is stopping us from getting inside, but we called out a few times and never got a reply. If anyone even made it at all, they're not in any kind of condition to answer us. " He looked away regretfully and shook his head- and by the look on his face, was utterly unaware of the state his words had left Ed in.

The third train car was where Al was.

"Wha... what?"

The strangled whisper sounded nothing like his own voice, and it took him a few seconds to even reconcile himself with the fact that it was his.

 _Al..._

 _Al..._

 _Al-!_

The engineer looked at him again, seemingly oblivious to the distress his words had caused. "Yes. It looks like there was some kind of explosive on the tracks that went off under the third car, so the damage is the worst back there. Like I said, we tried getting in, but it's just not going to happen. Not sure how we're going to proceed, but- hey! Kid, stop! What are you doing?!"

The engineer yanked his hands back from the boulder and Ed gasped again, fighting to thrash out of his grip in a near absolute panic. "Let me _go!"_ he snarled. "I said let me _go!_ I have to get back there! I have to find him!"

"You already tried to get this thing off before, it won't work! You're going to have to wait-"

"I told you to let go of me!" And with that, Ed wrenched first his metal arm, then his human one free, and without any hesitation whatsoever brought them together in a single clap.

His automail arm morphed into a screwdriver with a flash of light, and the moment the tool was fully formed, Ed set to work.

"Hey! Hey, stop! What are you-"

"Finding my brother!" he growled, rapidly unscrewing the first bolt and jumping to move on to the second. The metal hissed at him, pain curling up the nerves of his thigh so hot he could barely keep himself going.

But pain had sure as hell never kept him from Al before.

The second bolt gave him more resistance than the one before it, and the pathetically unhelpful engineer cried out in the same moment that Ed did. Trembling violently, Ed forcefully bit down hard on his lower lip, teeth digging into skin in a fierce attempt to distract himself from the growing agony in his leg as he set to work on the third bolt.

There were six bolts to unscrew, and by the time he finally reached the last one, he was sweating, had invented several new curse words, and he'd already nearly passed out once.

Still, Ed only gave himself a single moment to rest before the screwdriver dived into the six bolt, and he began to work against the automail one final time. "Sorry, Winry," he grunted under his breath, forcing a shaky grin. "You'll probably kill me for this, but... not got a choice."

The final bolt was by far the worst of them all, and when he finally managed to unlock it from binding to his skin, the unholy scream that was torn forth from his throat sounded like nothing less than sheer agony.

But his brother was more important.

Al was always more important.

Al was always _most_ important, and the moment Ed could see again, the moment he could feel _something_ besides the pain, he transmuted a crutch out of nearby rubble, yanked it closer to himself, and stood, hobbling away back towards the destruction of the third car.

His automail leg, crushed underneath the rocks, was left behind.

* * *

"Lieutenant Hawkeye, question for you." Maes Hughes sidled into Mustang's office without even knocking, usual jovial features serious, and gave Riza a worried and quiet look. "That train Roy was catching to East City- which number was it, again?"

She frowned at him. "97D, sir. Why?"

Maes paled.

The look on his face frightened her.

Slowly, the investigator came forward to nearly collapse in one of the empty desk chairs, dropping his face into his hands. He shook his head once miserably, fingers pushing his glasses out of the way to rub his eyes. "...You haven't turned on the radio today, have you, Lieutenant?"

When she shook her head, confusion still rising, he just pointed to the device with a poke of his finger and shook his head again.

Swallowing, she reached for the radio and turned it on.

" _...and the exact cause of train 97D's crash is unknown, with military personnel en route to the scene as we speak, casualties estimated at ten but still rising..."_


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you all again for reviewing!

* * *

With Al as much as out of commission as a disembodied spirit could get, the decision of how to move forward now was left up to Roy.

Of course, as he was barely in better shape than Al, that wasn't very reassuring at all.

The ceiling was too low for standing to be an option, and Roy was still a bit doubtful about his ability to even make it to his feet, never mind remaining there for any period of time. Unfortunately, that limited his options to crawling, crawling, and more crawling.

Whatever he'd broken in his shoulder, because Roy was getting to be certain he'd definitely broken _something,_ made crawling hurt like an absolute _bitch._

But, no matter how many times he had to stop and gasp through gritted teeth, Roy continued to work his way around the train car, trying to forge a way to Alphonse as well as count up all of the injured- and, if he was lucky, find a way out.

So far, no progress on that last front, but he'd found a few more injured to make their total up to twelve, in addition to him and Al.

The few that were well enough to get impatient with him were.

Coughing, Roy covered his nose and mouth more firmly with his collar and pulled his military jacket even further over his head, then ducked under a low hanging bit of crumbling wreckage. The motion dislodged a shower of blistering ashes and he shuddered, trying not to gasp, and pulled himself along another foot.

The sound of someone screaming stopped him.

Roy held still for a few moments, straining to hear beyond the hiss and crackle of flames. There- there, again! That definitely wasn't his exhausted imagination dreaming up the sound of help from outside. No- there _was_ somebody there.

" _Hey!"_ he shouted hoarsely, banging his fist on the ground as hard as he could. _"Hey! Over here! Can you hear me?! Over here!"_

The shouting stopped for a moment, then abruptly continued before, even louder than ever. Gasping with relief, Roy let himself lay back down on his stomach for a moment, finally grinning a little with wordless gratitude. _Finally,_ some help.

"Hey! _Hey! Al! AL, IS THAT YOU?! AL?!"_

Roy jerked a little, the unexpected voice shocking him, and he started to smile even wider than before. "Fullmetal?!" he shouted back, relieved again but now for entirely different reasons than before.

Silence again, then, a shocked, _"Colonel?! That you?"_

"Yes, it's me! Fullmetal, are you okay?!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine!" His voice came even closer then, definitely on the outside of the wreckage. "What about you?!"

Roy managed a one-armed shrug, smiling in wry amusement. "More or less! Full-"

"What about Al?! I can't find him anywhere!"

The edge of panic in his voice grew a little more, then, and suddenly, even though he could not see his subordinate, Roy knew exactly how desperate he must've looked right then. Of course. Ed would be just as panicked as Al was right now. "He's fine!" Roy called back, still shouting over the hot hiss of flames. "Missing his legs, but I spoke to him! He's fine!"

There was a short silence again, and this time, Roy knew Ed was out there shaking with sheer relief.

Swallowing, Roy pulled his jacket further over his head and craned his neck, trying to catch a glimpse of his subordinate through the haphazard wreckage and ash over his head. "Fullmetal!" he shouted again, trying to get his attention back on him. "We've got a lot of injured people in here, and I'm not seeing a way out! Can you see one from out there?!"

"No!" he called back without hesitation. "I've been trying to find one for the last ten minutes!"

Roy swore under his breath. If Ed couldn't find one in broad daylight, then the chances of him managing the feat when the air was choked with smoke and ash and soot clung to every surface like a shroud, were nearly zero. "Our next bet is a tunnel, then," he coughed out as loud as he could, swiping at the smoke in front of his face. "How stable is the ground out there? Enough for a tunnel?"

"I wouldn't risk it, Colonel! There's already been one landslide!"

 _Damn it._

That had been their only option.

"Never thought I'd be saying this," Roy mumbled, this time only to himself and not to his subordinate outside, "but... I'm praying for rain, then." He coughed again into his collar, mind already racing the steps of smoke inhalation and how much longer would end up being _too much_ longer.

"Oi, Colonel, can't you do something about this fire?!" Ed shouted back at him from outside. "You have your gloves, don't you?!"

Roy scowled. Of course he had his gloves- but that was hardly the point here, and Ed, as an alchemist, should know that. "As much as it pains me to admit it, Fullmetal, no, I _can't_ stop it! I can only start fires- I can't stop them!"

"What?! Aren't you the Flame Alchemist, Mustang?!"

 _Nice. Poke at a sore spot, why don't you._ "Well I don't know, Ed, aren't you just a short little pinprick that loves to get on my nerves?!"

It was a childish response, he knew it, and Ed's was just as bad, the alchemist sputtering and yelling something obscene at him from outside the wreckage, and, groaning, Roy just let his head drop onto his hands. He shut his eyes for a moment to ride out another ripple of pain, shuddering with it and gritting his teeth until he could breathe again. "The only thing that puts out fire is water," he called back, when he thought his subordinate had calmed down. "I know a few emergency arrays, but nothing that would be helpful on this scale. We'd need a specialist in water alchemy for this. The only thing I can do at this point is add more fire to fire. You'll forgive me if I don't see the wisdom in that plan, Fullmetal."

There was a very faint sound which Roy thought just might've been Ed grunting at him, and then, "I'm going to go round up all the other alchemists here. See if we can figure something out. Hang on. Whatever you do, don't make a tunnel."

And with that, Ed was gone, and Roy was left with nothing else to do but try and fumble his way through the ashy heat in search for a way out.

His shoulder throbbed again, aching from the injury sustained in the crash down to a very old scar wrapped around his bicep to his elbow, and Roy grimaced, grasping at it.

This was going to be a very long day.

* * *

Convening all the alchemists present had been a good idea, at least, but in the end, Ed grudgingly had to admit it had gotten him nowhere.

He'd not expected a host of brilliant ideas, but the utter lack of ability he'd been greeted with had been simply astounding. He was, as he had found out, the only State Alchemist on the train aside from Mustang. While, of course, not all civilian alchemists were untalented- Izumi and his brother being two prime counterexamples- the meager group on this train were. Never mind any large scale water arrays; no one present had the ability to safely transmute anything of any large size at all.

He groaned, standing back again to look over the fiery ruins that separated him and his brother. The military was about two hours away at this point, far too long for him to wait, and by the way Mustang had been coughing, the people still trapped in the train didn't have that long either.

"There's got to be a way to slow this fire down, at least," he muttered under his breath, scowling at it all. _Flame Alchemist, indeed. Tch. If he's no use in a fire, what use is he at all?_

Ed huffed again, folding his arms in aggravation. He was tempted to try and force his way into the train from the outside in, but knew this could only make matters worse, and cursed, fists clenching.

Still pacing, as dammed painful as the hobbled sort of walk was for him right now, Ed turned again in his walk back and forth in front of the train.

The glint of metal from the trees caught his eye.

He stood there for at least ten seconds, staring closely through foliage and smoke, and when the realization finally hit him, it made his breath quicken and his blood run cold.

Slowly, Ed carefully wiped his expression clean and began to limp back to the train, his heart now pounding.

* * *

"Mustang!"

Roy jolted, blinking in surprise at his subordinate's unexpected re-entry into conversation with him. "Fullemtal?" he called back, wincing when he discovered it was even harder to raise his voice than before. "What's-"

"Something's happened. I'm not going to have time to think of something else, so a tunnel's your best option. I've got most of the other survivors over here; whenever you and Al are ready, make a tunnel. Just one, and as small as you can. The people out here will help you, so just try and get everyone that you can out of there as fast as possible and when you two get to the other side, just seal it up and hope for the best."

Roy blinked at the sudden urgency in his subordinate's voice, his head swimming. He had to shake his head a few times to clear it and grimaced, realizing belatedly the smoke inhalation and difficulty getting in oxygen was starting to get to him. "What's... what's happened, Fullmetal? Why the change in plan?"

"...I saw a few people out there, closing in, Mustang. No uniforms, but they're heavily armed and they don't look very friendly."

Roy stopped dead in his tracks, understanding hitting him like a bucket of ice water.

Except ice water would actually be a blessing right now, so a bucket of rocks might be a more fitting description.

 _This was a controlled explosion, I've known that from the start. Someone purposefully derailed this train. Soldiers from another country would go for a military train; with just me and Ed as targets this one hardly qualifies but, terrorists..._

They would go for a civilian train.

And they would've been watching when their explosives went off.

Clearly, their plan had gone wrong, if there were any survivors at all left to tell the tale.

They were coming to rectify that.

And Ed, undoubtedly injured, and definitely alone, was going to try and fight them.

Absolutely _not._

"Fullmetal, this is an _order:_ you get yourself and any other survivors that you can out of here."

" _What?!"_

"That's an _order!"_ he shouted back, hoarse voice rising over flames no matter how much it strained his throat. "Save who you can, get as far away as possible, but do not engage! I know how confident you are in yourself, but you know nothing about these people! Not numbers, not abilities, _nothing!_ You've got no backup coming and just _don't_ waste my time by lying and saying you're not already injured!"

A round of hacking coughs stopped him before he could go on, forcing him to break off but evidently not loud enough for his subordinate to hear, because Ed shouted right back at him without heed for the fact he was currently curled over breathless and wheezing on the floor. "What the hell are you saying?! Just leave you and Al?! I don't think so, Mustang!"

"A-Al... Al'll... he'll be f-fine," Roy gasped out, as soon as he could breathe again. The hot and acrid air burned his throat, and the next smokey wheeze of smoke left him ready to kill for even a hint of fresh air. "Al can wait it out... until backup-"

"I know he can! I'm not worried about Al, I'm worried about _you!"_

He raised an eyebrow, gaze wandering over smoldering wreckage in hopes of catching just a glimpse of his subordinate. Beyond ash and sparks however, was just more ash and sparks; there was nothing to see except for a red glow in the dark, and he sighed, letting his head rest on his hands again. "Worried about me, Fullmetal?" he muttered to himself, another cough shuddering through his shoulders and down to the very base of his spine. "How very uncharacteristic of you..."

Roy disliked very much to admit it, though- and certainly would not shout the news to Fullmetal- but in his current state of being reduced to a crawl, one arm nearly immovable and the shoulder twitching with agony with every choked breath, his ribs taking their tortuous revenge every time he inched another step forward, and barely able to even _breathe,_ perhaps a little worry was not entirely unnecessary.

But, that changed nothing.

"Fullmetal," he called back at last, shutting his eyes for a moment and ducking even further beneath his jacket, shuddering at another wave of heat. "...Be honest. What is your condition?"

The brief silence that awaited him before the answer told him everything he needed to know, but when Ed still finally fulfilled the request and answered him, Roy was angry enough to chuck the boy straight off the cliff.

"My leg is gone, Mustang."

An uncomfortable, slow beat of absolute silence. Roy closed his eyes, just breathing through the anger and disbelief, because screaming at him now would only tick Fullmetal off and put him in even more pain than before, it was not worth it, it _was not_ worth it-

"...I'm just saying, it could be worse-"

Just, fuck it.

"Could be _worse?!_ You are _missing! A! Limb!"_ he bellowed, and hellfire he just _did not care_ how painfully his chest reacted to the screech. "You _flaming dumbass,_ remember when I asked you earlier if you were all right, and you said _ohhhh yes, I'm FINE, Mustang, I'm just dandy out here-_ did you just not think your leg was _relevant?!"_

"I never said that, you melodramatic asshole-"

"I don't care! I _do not care!_ You lied through your teeth; what else did you lie about?! You've still got your arm, do you, or did that fly off as well?!"

"Why don't you come out here and ask that question?! Oh, wait, you _can't,_ because you're _useless,_ and stuck waiting there for _me!"_

"Useless? _Me?!_ Oh, that's rich; I'm going to _love_ to see how much use you're going to be _without your leg!"_

" _Go screw yourself!"_

Another round of breathless coughs left Roy unable to answer- probably a good thing, because right now he didn't have the self control or the patience to stop until he screamed himself hoarse. He ducked his head for a moment, gasping for what little oxygen he could manage to get, trembling in the sparks and forced to just wait until he could grab enough air to say something loud enough to be heard.

Damn it, Ed was missing his _leg._

And the kid had been planning on making a stand?

Hell, he had been opposed before he'd found that out; now, Ed was getting the hell out of danger even if Roy had to crawl his way out and drag him back himself.

"Look. Ed." He squinted up through the clouds of ash again, looking to where he hoped Ed was crouched outside the wreckage. He forced himself to calm down a little, draining hostility out of his voice, because if he spoke from anger alone then that was how Ed would respond, and they would get nowhere. "Without your leg, you can't even fight. They'll kill you. Get out of here while you still can. They won't attack us, they don't know there are any survivors, and-"

"Mustang, _shut up._ You're actually doing this? You're actually telling me to abandon you and Al and save myself? Did you hit your head as well or are you really just this fucking stupid?"

" _Fullmetal-"_

"I told you my condition, now tell me yours! You want me to leave? Then tell me everything that's wrong with you, so I can at least be confident you won't die while I'm gone!"

Roy cursed under his breath and fell silent. Had it been Hawkeye out there, she would've simply trusted his orders and followed them to the letter. But, no such luck. Ed was one of a kind, and if an order went against his conscience, he simply wouldn't follow it. Whether he was just too dammed moral for his own good or it was the fact that he was only a child still, and stubborn and idealistic the way only a child could be, Roy hadn't yet figured it out- but the fact remained that Ed was not just going to blindly follow his order and leave.

God _damn_ him.

The self-assessment he'd given Al had been willing and confident, done so that he and the boy could best work together in a trying situation. The one he gave Ed now was reluctant and upset, done only because he was forced- because he knew, once he heard it, Ed was not going to leave.

But he couldn't bring himself to lie.

"...I can't move my left arm. I suspect, though can not confirm, several broken ribs. And I estimate no more than three hours before we all suffocate from the smoke."

Another short silence, this one even worse than the one that had followed Ed's report of his own injuries.

"...Fullmetal, you can't fight like this, and Al will be _fine,_ I swear it, so just get yourself out of here and-"

"Yeah, and by the sound of it, you would die before backup showed up. Sorry, Mustang, but I'm not about to leave you for dead when you're still alive and kicking. Leg or no leg, bastard."

" _Fullmetal!"_

"Shut your stupid, ugly _face._ Don't you dare expect me to run away like a coward and leave you behind. Don't bother to make it an order, either, Colonel; I'll just throw my watch back at you and then fight anyway."

God damn the kid, god _damn_ him! This was really _happening_. Ed was actually going to _fight_ an unknown, dangerous enemy while missing his _leg-_ and he was doing it just to save _him._

There was something unspeakable wrong with that, but no matter how horrifying he found it, nothing he said could take Fullmetal out of this.

Ed was about to risk his life for him.

Roy's hand lowered to his pants pocket, slipping in to curl tightly around one of his gloves. If he could just get himself out there, just one snap and the fight would be over, and Ed wouldn't have to put himself in danger, and he'd be _safe._

His lip curled, and, frustration rising, Roy brought a fist down to hit the hot ground again, and when pain whiplashed up through his limb at the movement he did it again and again until he had to grit his teeth not to scream. Ed was about to throw himself into a fight, and here he was, lying down like a lump of uselessness, barely a hundred feet away and even with his gloves but simply unable to help.

 _God DAMN it!_

"Oi, Colonel! You hear what I said?! I'm going in there whether you like it or not!"

Grimacing, Roy swallowed the frustrated scream and tilted his head back, squinting up through the smoke and ash to where he could just glimpse the hint of gold hair. All the things he wanted to say, the screamed orders to get the hell out, the terror he was going to get himself killed, the lie of a promise that he'd be _fine,_ just run and escape now while he still could- all of it failed him, and he just stared upwards, breathing hard, his heart in his throat.

"Be careful, Fullmetal," he ordered at last, his voice hollow, and wished again he could claw his way out to fight with him.

Ed fell silent, clearly having expected more resistance and not been ready to handle something that wasn't a fight. It was quiet save for the hot crackle of fire, Roy prostrate and shaking with anxiety, and Ed, trapped on the outside, about to enter a fight with nearly zero chance of winning.

At last, Ed spoke back to him, and in his voice, Roy heard only coldhearted determination.

"Yes, sir."

Then Ed was gone again, and Roy was left with twice as much urgency as before and absolutely no time to spare.

* * *

Maes looked at his watch, pursed his lips, and pressed his foot over the gas pedal just a little harder.

"One hour," he told Hawkeye somberly, and she just gave a tense nod and continued to clean her gun.

* * *

When the terrorists attacked, Ed was ready and waiting.

Six of them, each armed to the teeth- one of them firing before they'd even fully reached the site of the crash. Ed had already been expecting it and been just waiting to yank up a metal shield to surround himself and the other survivors- bullets ricocheted in every direction but back at them, and when the metallic ringing finally ceased and he risked peeking his head out into danger, he found that three of the terrorists had already been shot and were out of commission.

He grinned.

"Any chance you wanna take that as a sign of my superiority and give up now?!" he shouted, grin widening, then abruptly ducked back behind his shield at the sound of another bullet firing. "Okay then, guess not."

Without his leg, his usual method of close range ass kicking wasn't really an option here, but this group had already shown themselves not to be too bright. Right now, his main worry was not being too destructive- this cliffside was unstable enough as it was, and a few large blows was all it would take to kill them all. He had to balance a conservative fighting style alongside a rapid takedown, because while his secondary concern was the cliffside collapsing, his primary one remained getting back to Mustang in time.

Normally, conservative and rapid were counterintuitive goals.

But Ed didn't really care much for what was considered _normal._

Flexing his hands, Ed took a few steps backwards to return to the mostly intact first train car and his Plan B. While the terrorists remained occupied with staring at him and being afraid, clearly not having been ready to deal with an alchemist, Ed clapped his hands together, took a breath, and slammed them down against the metal of the train car.

The _screech_ of metal tearing itself apart roared across the crash site in an instant, azure light flashing in a brilliant glow as the previously destroyed metal began to stretch upwards. Sheets of metal split apart into bars with an earsplitting, nails on a chalkboard creak, and Ed's knees buckled as he struggled to control the massive transmutation. _This is only for show, Ed, come on, this is only for show... make it, damn it, don't give out now...!_

Slowly, piece by piece, his final desired object took form until finally, glinting in the sunlight with the shine of something brand spanking new, an absolutely gorgeous work of metal alchemy, sat a tank.

...Okay, well, it wasn't actually a tank. Ed didn't know enough about the inner of mechanisms of a tank or artillery to transmute one at all accurately- hell, he couldn't even make a working gun. But the point was, it looked like one.

"All _right!"_ he cried out, ecstatic, and somehow managed to work himself up into his newest creation even with one leg currently missing. He grinned wildly- okay, so maybe this was a little fun!- and began to drive the monster forward.

"'I'm never letting you touch my car, Fullmetal," he quoted under his breath, sticking his tongue out at the memory of Colonel Bastard mocking him when he'd asked to drive. "'You don't even have a license and besides, you're so short you can't even see the road.' Well, what do you say now, bastard?! I'm saving your ass while driving a dammed _tank!_ I don't even want to drive your car anymore anyway, I'll just steamroll it with _this!"_

Ed laughed again, beaming when the terrorists panicked at the very sight of him and began to huddle themselves closer and closer together. Clearly, they hadn't been expecting a State Alchemist to be on board. "Now, are you going to come quietly, or do you want me to show you what this baby can do first?!"

Quite clearly, none of them had absolutely any interest in seeing just what Ed's tank could do.

(Probably a good thing, considering it really couldn't do much more than drive.)

With the terrorists all huddled together now, though, his goal had been realized, and Ed grinned. He quickly clapped his hands together, then vaulted out of the tank (his leg gave a furious spike of pain again at that one), and slammed them to the ground to send the earth around the enemies spiraling up to form a cage around them.

First half, taken down by their own bullets, and second half, by their own cowardice.

Easiest. Fight. _Ever._

Ed approached the cage, arms folded and expression firmly set in a smirk. "When they ask you in prison, you can tell them that Edward Elric, Fullmetal Alchemist, who is totally six feet tall and _not a dammed shrimp,_ defeated you all singlehandedly, while Colonel Bastard Flame Alchemist did absolutely nothing except depend on me to save him. Got that?!"

The terrorists, all still cowering away from him, responded with a round of frightened, trembling nods.

Then, of course, because something always _had_ to go wrong...

The ground started to shake.

It was a violent tremor that ripped his crutch out of hand and sent it flying. Ed gasped, already precarious sense of balance vanishing and sending him to his one knee, and he grappled to hold onto something solid, his mind racing. An earthquake? _Now?_ His first thought was Al and Mustang's tunnel- but that would've destabilized the cliff underneath the third train car. He was many yards away from it.

Another rumble forced him to his back, the handhold his metal arm had managed to carve out into the ground dissolving into nothing. Ed cried out in panic, struggling to hold his own, but the third tremor was so powerful he was tossed forward in a bone-bruising roll that made his head spin, and he just gave up entirely on the traditional route.

 _Clap- flash- smash!_

Metal arm, made into a pick axe, pierced through earth so deep Ed was buried up to his wrist, and he sighed in relief.

Whatever was going on, it wouldn't be dislodging him any time soon-

Ed's confident grin dropped, and he stared in absolute disbelief as he found himself watching the earth around his automail dissolve into mud soup.

Then, as if on cue, the fourth tremor came, and with it a rock came hurtling through the air straight for his head.

Instantly, everything became clear.

This wasn't an earthquake.

This wasn't an avalanche.

This wasn't a landslide.

The way that earth had dissolved... and the rock coming for him now...

Ed brought his metal limb up, the thing dripping with mud, and in a flash it had been transmuted back into a fist. He hurled it forward in as hard a punch as he could, and rock met metal and shattered.

This was the work of an alchemist.

Ed crouched, gasping, hands held only inches apart and at the ready for another transmutation. But the blow to destroy the rock whose destination had been his head, while successful, had spread a cloud of thick cloud of dust that only joined the miasma brought up by the quakes that he could still feel trembling at his feet. His visibility had dropped to nearly nothing, and Ed, breathing hard, was given no choice but to wait for the enemy to reveal himself.

"I know you're there, alchemist! _Show yourself!"_

A few moments of the dust cloud just shifting in the gentle wind, and Ed kneeling there, nerves tent and muscles taut with adrenaline.

And then at last...

"Oh? So you figured out this was alchemy, then? Good for you, boy, good for you."

Ed spun after the voice, hand forming a blade in the space of a milisecond, and prepared to strike. The dust cloud remained too thick to really see but it was slowly parting, and his eyes darted through it frantically, trying to find the one detail that would reveal the enemy.

"Now, what was that I heard about Mustang, earlier? He is here with you- and still trapped in the train, you said? Hmm... that's a pity, then. Would've been rather fun to fight the both of you together."

Ed snarled, fury rising in a monster he almost could not control. Mustang- trapped- slowly _suffocating-_ "You keep your hands _off_ him! I'm your opponent; leave him out of this!"

The enemy laughed quietly, and Ed squinted again, the dust cloud thinning enough that he was able to discern a shadow standing just where it sounded the bastard should be. Tall, at least six feet, slim, facing him-

"Relax, Fullmetal Alchemist. I'm not about to go through the trouble of digging him out just to kill him. The only one you need to be worrying about is yourself."

Then the shadow's arm raised to his own chest, there was a flash of light, and the dust cloud blasted outwards to leave all revealed.

Ed coughed and ducked his head in alarm, squeezing his eyes shut as dirt flew overhead and dug into his face and hair painfully. He coughed again, gasping in a breath of suddenly clean air even as he scrambled back, blinking stinging eyes to continue to stare at the enemy.

Rather than his face, Ed's gaze went directly to the necklace of a transmutation circle clenched tightly between thumb and forefinger. The man grinned at him, tilting the pendant upwards until it caught the light, and Ed's breath caught when he realized it was the symbols that would cause a landslide.

"Time for a proper introduction, Fullmetal. James Schmidit, formerly known as the Landslide Alchemist. Before I deserted the military, of course." He flexed his fingers, eyes flashing, and beamed. "Now, let's see this fight get interesting, shall we?"


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you for reviewing! I'm hopefully going to post the next chapter tomorrow night, so you all can get a quick explanation on just what Roy does at the end of this chapter :)

* * *

The scent of burning flesh was an interesting one.

Quite distinctive, and mildly unpleasant, one that made even those unaware of its origin wrinkle their noses and frown. Sharp and tangy, it was, hot and with only vague similarities to cooking meat. For Roy, the smell called back memories of his own arm burning under the falling rain, and the massacres of his own hand in Ishval, and when it reached him again in the burning prison of the train car, at first all he could do was shudder and cover his nose and mouth against the nausea that rose.

The source, a corpse charred beyond recognition even as a human being half crushed under a fallen sheet of metal, sent a chill down his spine, and he forced his eyes away.

Roy glanced around the close space of the ruined train car, squinting through air heavy with smoke and sparks. His eyes burned, watering in protest, and when the coughs rose again he had to double over just to breathe. Agony trembled through his chest, ribs throbbing and shoulder screaming for relief, and he gasped again, sweat dripping off his face and hands. He cursed, pinching his nose with two fingers against the smell that pulled at horrific memories, his other hand struggling to push himself up against the heat of the floor. He'd already pulled his socks onto his hands to ward against the heat- trying to save his gloves in case they'd be needed later- but several holes had already been burned through the wool. It wouldn't be long before he just had no choice but to burn his hands.

"C-come on, Fullmetal," he ground out, voice low and gravely as vocal chords fought against smoke's poison. "Any time now, runt..."

At last, still coughing and gasping, Roy managed to worm his way through a gap in the rubble and finally emerge to where Al had been trapped. A grin was a bit beyond him at the moment, but he did sigh in relief, before somehow working up enough air to shout out his victory. There were other survivors here who, like him, were conscious and able to move about- he'd managed to get them to help him move the ones who could not. He wasn't too happy about trusting civilians to do military work like this, but they were simply out of options by this point.

"You got the transmutation circle ready, Al?" he asked weakly, working himself forward on his elbow, and the boy just looked at him.

"Of course, Colonel. ...You, ah... you really don't look very good."

Roy let his mouth work into a bitter grin. "That's because fire doesn't mix well with humans, Al. ...Not even with me."

 _Especially not with me,_ he thought grimly, old scar on his arm stinging again. Few understood the dangers of fire as intimately as he did. And as much as it pained him to accept it now, this was one of the reasons the master had been so harsh with him. So that he wouldn't take the name Flame Alchemist to head and think he could tame this blaze here- only to have it turn back around on him and eat him alive.

Him and everyone else still trapped here.

 _Arrogance is even more dangerous than fire, he always said. Fire will bite both the sage and the fool, but arrogance will lead the fool to fire as if it was as safe as water. And in the hands of a Flame Alchemist, arrogance will bring fire not only to the fool, but to everyone with in reach of his power..._

Clearing his throat as best he could, Roy crawled closer to the boy's transmutation circle and called again for the other survivors to hurry up. "We're going to get those who can move to help carry those who can't out. Move in groups of two; you'll lower them into the tunnel and I'll catch them."

"Er, how do you plan to do that?"

Roy grimaced. He knew it wasn't the smug mocking he'd have gotten from Ed for that statement, but an actual, genuine question, but it still tried at his nearly nonexistent patience. "However I can manage it, Al. In c-case you h-haven't noticed... b-bit of a t-t-time crunch..."

"I got it, I got it!" the boy exclaimed hurriedly as Roy found himself doubled over again, shaking through coughs that ached to his lungs and shutting red and stinging eyes. He pinched his nose again, bile rising at the smell, fighting with all his strength to hold on.

 _Come on, Roy! Ed's fighting out there and he's alone. Come ON! Got to get through this... got to get through this..._

Because damn him to hell if that kid wound up hurt because he was too busy coughing in here to get to his side to help him.

Finally, shuddering still, Roy rose tremulously to his knees and gestured Al forward. The first of the pale and nervous survivors joined him at the edge of the transmutation circle, one shaking and face covered in smeared soot, the other unconscious, and Roy nodded at them once before looking again towards Al.

Without hesitation, the boy leaned forward, empty gloves touched the floor, and with a creaking grunt of the ground, a tunnel split open at their feet.

Roy grinned.

* * *

When Ed hit the ground for the tenth time in as many minutes, and he was left with his whole body feeling like one gigantic bruise, an arm nearly wrenched out of the socket (the bone one, not the metal one), and the third crack of a broken rib, he had to face facts.

Without his leg or his brother, there was almost no way he could win against another skilled alchemist.

There was just no dammed _time_ to get himself together. Every blow sent him hurtling back yards over the cliffside and in the precious seconds it took him to work himself up onto his knee, another attack came and, defenseless, he'd be hit once again. And to make matters worse, Landslide had started aiming for his leg as well, clearly trying to render him completely immobile. Ed didn't think it was broken yet, but it was starting to hurt like all hell to put his weight on it, and he found himself cringing with every rock that smashed into it in preparation to hear the gentle crunch of bone breaking.

He cursed under his breath, bringing his metal arm turned shield up to block a few rocks tossed his way. Ordinarily, this fight would be a _breeze!_ Schmidit was clearly very limited here; his specialty was earth alchemy, and while they were surrounded by the stuff, he had to be very careful, or he could set off a landslide and the cliffside would be crushed. No one would be more aware of such dangers than the Landslide Alchemist, and, thank god, he'd been appropriately careful in every single move he'd done thus far.

Ed was not limited in such a way, however, with his specialty being close combat. Ordinarily, he would've _destroyed_ Schmidit. De- _stroyed._

As of now, his only attempt at a plan was a desperate scramble back towards the metal of the first and second train cars. Get him some metal, get him his specialty, get him something he could really _work with_ , and he'd at least be able to stand a chance.

His only saving grace was at least that Mustang, while present, wasn't able to see the beatdown.

"Maybe you should've just stayed put under that rock I sent your way, Fullmetal!" Landslide screeched over the rumble of rocks, and Ed barely managed to duck behind the shield he'd transmuted his arm into in time. The blow hit him with what would've been a bone-bruising blow and he shook down to his spine to weather it, only just managing to keep himself on his knee.

"If this is all the fight you can put up, would've been safer for you to just stay behind and play dead!"

" _You?!"_ Ed shouted back, just trying to stall until he could think of some sort of strategy. "You sent the landslide earlier?! Why?!" He cast another nervous look back towards the others near the third train car; they were still trying to get the injured out, and there was still no sign of Mustang or Al. Damn it, they still needed more time?!

"Damn pathetic question, Fullmetal!" Yet another rock hurtled his way, and Ed had to throw himself out of the way. He hit the ground in a roll and bounced over the yards, every additional blow pulsing through the growing cover of bruises until he couldn't stop himself from a single gasped cry of pain.

"I blew up this train! You think, when I saw those survivors, I was just going to let them walk away?! Of course I sent that landslide to finish them off! And when I take care of you, I'll go back to them!"

 _Yeah, good luck with that plan, psycho..._ Groaning, Ed managed to push himself up onto his sore knee again, nearby rubble morphing into another crutch as he jerked up his metal shield. He just needed to backpedal a little further- damn it, just a _little closer-!_

"Why go after this train at all?! They're all civilians! Attack the military if you've got a problem with us! Don't go after innocent people, Landslide!"

Another few rocks; another few hobbled steps backwards. The attacks were more violent than before, and Ed grimaced; he could tell the alchemist was beginning to lose his grip on his control. Ordinarily, a good thing in a fight- but if Landslide went too far, he could set off an avalanche that would bury them all.

"Military goes after the innocent all the time, my friend! Ever hear of Ishval?! Course you have, who hasn't- but you probably haven't heard of the unit that was left behind for slaughter just to try and lure out more Ishvalans to kill! News flash, kid- _it was mine!"_

Ed felt his heel run into the beginning of the wreckage, and he hid a grin. Perfect timing.

"Oh- got it, then! So your unit was killed- and you go after the innocent and uninvolved instead of targeting the one who issued the order. Comprende, Landslide!"

And now, Ed had metal to work with.

Really, it was going to be very simple, what he needed to do. After all, the only reason he was losing was that his leg was gone. Ordinarily in this situation, Ed would postpone and stall to wait for Al rather than go with such drastic measures- but this time, Al wasn't coming.

This time, postponing and stalling could get Mustang killed.

He had no choice, and it was the thought of Mustang suffocating that got him down on his knee, smacked his hands together, and then touched them to the metal of the train car.

 _One leg or no leg, damn it, I'm not about to sit by and watch as that bastard dies._

* * *

Gritting his teeth, Roy gingerly passed off the last of the injured to the civilian outside, shuddered through a gasp, then reluctantly lowered his arm and took a step back into the tunnel. With his ribs the way they were, lifting his arm high enough to get pulled out himself had already been shown to be an impossibility; he was just going to have to wait in the tunnel, where at least he could get fresh air, until military backup arrived that would be able to help him to safety.

Never mind that just _waiting_ in this situation was absolutely insufferable.

"How is Ed- the Fullmetal Alchemist doing?" he coughed to the nearest civilian, the hoarse, gravelly nature forced into his voice by the smoke hiding the worry he was too strained to disguise.

The man glanced back down at him nervously, biting his lip. "Er..."

That right there, that was another problem with working with civilians instead of the military. An officer would've already given him a status report. "The kid!" he snarled. "The kid who told you all to help me!"

"Oh, Edward!" His face brightened then but only for a split second before the civilian turned back, clearly looking towards Ed's ongoing fight, and he bit his lip again. "Edward's...he's fighting another alchemist, Colonel Mustang. I guess he's an alchemist; he's throwing earth around like magic..."

Another alchemist.

Ed, missing his leg, was fighting _another alchemist._

The second part of what the civilian had said barely registered through the sick sense of horror, but when it did, Roy found himself feeling even worse than before.

An alchemist that worked with earth.

An alchemist that worked with earth, surely further destabilizing the already unstable cliff, and... he was currently standing in an underground tunnel.

That was a recipe for disaster.

"Al!" he shouted, scrambling back as fast as he could to the other alchemist and reaching his arm up as high as his ribs would allow. "Al, bad news! I've got to get-"

The burst of a bloodcurdling, terrifying _scream_ of agony left the end of that sentence dead before it had even reached his mouth, and his heart stopped.

Al met his gaze in shared terror, Roy's eyes widened, and together, they whispered the name they were both terrified for.

" _Ed."_

* * *

Automail was a very complicated, very difficult thing to make, on the inside and out.

Externally alone, Winry and Pinako's design was so intricate, Ed could stare at it for hours. His specialty was metal alchemy, after all, and their work was so good he could always find new, previously unseen details no matter how long he stared. Internally, _functionally,_ he knew he never stood a chance. It had taken Winry years of study and practice, her entire _life_ , to be able to create it. He just had never focused his talents or efforts on it. It would be like Winry trying a soul transmutation; it just wasn't going to happen.

However, he wasn't looking to rival Winry and Pinako's automail business.

He was just trying to transmute something that would work.

And by the way his leg hurt like _fire_ when the nerves began to connect, he knew, it would _work._

Groaning with the agony of it, Ed alternated between connecting the most important nerves and blocking the hurtled rocks aimed for his head. Landslide was advancing faster now, had clearly seen the new leg taking form and was trying to slow him down even as the enemy started to sprint across the cliffside separating them, but Ed had no way to stop him. He could hardly attack from this position, and if he tried to move to get out of the way now he could kill the nerves he was working with; end up removing some of the functionality automail had returned to him and potentially paralyzing his flesh leg whenever it was returned to him.

All he could do was watch Landslide come at him and race to get the nerves connected in time- and robbed of any anesthetic, time to prepare himself, or the calm, reassuring feel of Winry promising him it'd be over soon, he screamed with every electrical shock of nerve wiring in to metal conduit.

But whether it was that he was working too slowly, or Landslide approaching too quickly, or some dammed ridiculously _unfair_ combination of both, with every second that passed a slow, steady sense of fear rose until he could barely even breathe.

 _I'm not going to make it in time..._

* * *

The nth time Ed screamed, Roy burned his hands curling them around a blisteringly hot sheet of metal and tearing it aside. He barely felt the pain, desperation carrying him to a place beyond physical agony, and he just continued to dig through the wreckage.

All he knew, all he could feel, all he could _think,_ was that Ed was in danger. Ed was out there, he was alone, he was hurt, and unless he could do something and _do it now,_ he could die.

The first scream had gotten him terrified; the second scream, out of the tunnel to try and carve a line of sight out in the flaming ruins; every one after that made his heart skip yet another beat and forced him to work even faster. His panicked breaths screeched in his ears and chest screamed with the effort of both breath and physical exertion. Damn it, the kid was out there, _alone,_ he'd defied orders and was risking his life out there, stubborn absolute _brat_ that he was, but unless he could get to him Ed would wind up dead on the ground.

Because of _him._

Roy cried out in frustrated agony, tearing his way through another sheet of rubble in a desperate scramble to reach sunlight. All he needed was to see him- all he needed was a line of sight- even with the rest of him still trapped it would be enough, just a single snap- that was all he needed but _god_ he needed it _now._ "Hang on, Fullmetal, just _hang on!"_ he gasped, ripping his way through another sheet of scorching hot metal again. The burns were nothing to him; he'd endured far worse at the hands of his own master, and with every hiss of heat against skin he just took a breath and kept on going.

God _damn_ his wounded shoulder, god _damn_ his ribs, god _damn it all!_ If he could just be pulled out the other side of the tunnel- but, _no!_ Fighting desperately, still trapped within the train, was simply the only option he and Al had, the boy sharing his task from behind and working even faster than him through sheer terror. He was scrawling transmutation circles so fast Roy couldn't even process the symbols before another rock or sheet of metal in his path had dissolved but no matter how desperately and frantically they worked, there was always another obstacle in their way.

"Come on!" he shouted, shoulders trembling with the agony of it now and terror making his heart race. This was _pathetic!_ Ed was _out there fighting,_ and all he could fucking do to help was scratch and crawl in here like a blinded animal?!

 _I refuse! I REFUSE! No!_

 _Ed, I won't let you fight this alone, damn it!_

 _Just hang on!_

"Just hang on, Ed! _Hang on!"_

And then- precious sunlight.

Barely even a trickle, the gap he'd carved out in the wreckage perhaps a few inches in diameter, maybe not even that- but it was enough.

Enough for him to see.

Enough for him to snap.

"I've got it, Al, stop!" he gasped, already throwing himself after their success and squinting. The light blinded him and he blinked furiously, hands already fumbling for his gloves while he struggled to stare against the white glare, searching for Ed, searching for the enemy, searching for something, _anything-_

Bit by bit, the glare faded, the stinging pain remaining in his eyes but his vision restored at least enough that he could find his subordinate.

What he saw made his heart stop.

Ed was on the ground, and the enemy was walking towards him.

Ed was on the ground, and by the way he was curled in agony, clutching at his leg, he wasn't about to get up any time soon.

And the enemy was coming for him.

Roy didn't even stop to think.

 _Master, forgive me-_

Hand rose, fingers clenched, and aim was taken.

 _-but I am going to break your most important lesson._

Eyes shut.

 _I am going to start a fire now that I can't control._

Deep breath.

 _But this fire will only leave me at risk-_

" _Al, brace yourself!"_

 _-so forgive me, Master-_

Snap.

 _but I must save him!_

Boom.


	5. Chapter 5

Thank you for reviewing! Because this guy's short, next chapter should also be up tomorrow! :)

* * *

Red lightning sparked so violently Ed was blinded, and so brilliantly he was stunned beyond even the agony of his legs.

Landslide howled, scream torn from agony screeching in a grating chorus with fire's roar, but all Ed could even see was the burst of smoke. He somehow managed to pull himself back a couple of feet, staring at the obscuring cloud in utter disbelief. Had Mustang and Al finally made it out of the train? It was the only explanation, but, somehow, Ed couldn't silence his sense of unease. Even before the smoke had cleared, he'd connected the last important nerve, transmuted another pair of crutches, then worked himself up to his feet, already prepared to continue the fight.

Landslide screeched again, and from within the smoke came the sound of him surely beating his jacket against his limbs, trying to put out the fire Mustang had started. The bastard had missed his target, then- probably because of the distance, and that Landslide had been standing so close to him.

 _If he'd been just a few seconds later..._

Ed swallowed, trying not to think about just how close he'd cut it.

" _Fucking MUSTANG! I'll kill you, god damn it! FUCK you!"_

Landslide had lost all control, that was evident by his voice alone, and with a flash of light, the smoke was blasted away in a scorching shockwave, and Ed could see it all.

The enemy alchemist was on one knee, shoulder smoking and sleeve burned entirely away to reveal skin that was red and raw. Landslide was gasping and shaking with the pain of it, blood dripping to a pool under one hand that was already disturbingly large, but his other hand already gripped his necklace in a white-knuckled grip and his face was twisted in absolute fury. Ed tensed, preparing to launch himself forward again, and followed his enraged stare towards the third train car.

What he found was not what he had expected.

He had expected Al and Mustang to be standing outside of it. He had expected Al to be already running to his side, worried and panicking, and Mustang to just be standing there smirking, perhaps with a lofty comment about running in to save the day, and undoubtedly with some sort of jab about his height.

He'd been _expecting_ his brother and Mustang.

And they weren't there.

The only people outside of the train were the other civilians, huddled together a few yards away from the train. But even at this distance, Ed would very easily have been able to find his brother, and Mustang wouldn't have been cowering with the other survivors. He'd have been on his feet, arm raised, hand clenched in a snap.

And _they weren't there._

In a moment of heartstopping fear, his eyes landed on the third train car again.

The blaze roared even higher than before, flames licking against the mountain at what had to have been twenty feet in the air, conflagration crackling in the horrible silence, and then, Ed understood.

Mustang hadn't made it outside of the wreckage.

He'd set off the explosion while he was still trapped.

 _That idiot... that fucking IDIOT..._

Ed may not have understood the specifics of Flame Alchemy, but if nothing else, he was a genius alchemist. He had figured out enough of how Mustang's gloves worked. The colonel didn't just create fire- he created _explosions._ That required more than just manipulation of oxygen and heat. Whatever that extra component was was the secret Mustang guarded so closely- what allowed him to transform a spark in the air into an explosion.

Whatever it was had to be highly volatile.

Volatile enough that just now, when Mustang had snapped, he hadn't only created one explosion.

He'd made two.

 _One on Landslide, and then... again in the train..._

Whatever that volatile component of his transmutations was, it hadn't been stable enough to make it out of the train, not when the wreckage had been so close to collapsing and already on fire.

It would've blown up right in his face.

 _Mustang..._

 _Alphonse..._

"No..."

Landslide howled out again, and it took Ed a few moments to realize that this time, he was laughing.

He was _laughing._

The enemy alchemist still shook with the pain but now the rage contorting his features morphing into absolute delight, and he screamed out in laughter again. "I don't even have to kill him! He did it _for me!"_ He fell from a half crouch to kneel on the dirt, gasping still and blood leaking down his fingers, but his grin just continued to grow in macabre delight. "So much for the fucking Flame Alchemist! He just _blew himself up!_ Oh, _very_ nice work there, Mustang! _Brilliantly done!"_

 _No..._

 _No..._

 _God damn it, NO!_

 _Al-_

 _Mustang-_

Ed gasped again, heart racing in denial and mind struggling to grasp the impossibility intensity of the flames before him. Al- no, no, Al wasn't- he _wasn't-_

His brother could survive fire. Fire was absolutely _nothing_ to him. Metal melted at temperatures of thousands of degrees; that kind of fire couldn't exist in nature like this. It would cool far too quickly, and besides, those high energy flames would've been a wicked blue; Mustang's fires, this one included, were red and orange.

Far too low temperature to affect Al, but a human of flesh and blood...

It was impossible a human could survive a blaze of that intensity.

 _Nonononononono-_

" _MUSTANG!"_

"Mustang's dead, boy!" Landslide shouted, the alchemist whirled back to face him against the background of a rising fire, grin widening across his disgustingly gleeful face. "Just killed himself trying to save _you!"_

 _No- No- No-_

"Too bad for him that he missed."

Landslide, still on his knees, the pool of blood under his limp arm still growing, faced him fully now, fingers gripping his transmutation circle necklace even tighter than before, face twisted in absolute confidence.

Except, unlike before, he was kneeling just close enough for Ed's close combat specialty to come into play.

Also unlike before, Ed found himself standing there without any self control left.

Mustang was _dead,_ and it was because of Landslide.

Before Landslide could even take aim, Ed had thrown himself off the ground and there wasn't even time for the enemy to blink in surprise before a metal fist had slammed across his face, and his new metal leg had locked around his torso in an iron grip that would not release.

Landslide went down, and Ed went with him.

"You killed him! You killed him! _You killed Mustang!"_

Ed punched him again- and again- and _again-_

" _YOU KILLED HIM!"_

With that, any restraint he had left dissolved into nothing, and Ed just kept punching him.

So mad he saw red, so furious there was just nothing that mattered besides _Landslide,_ the roar in his mind against facing that he'd just seen Mustang _die,_ the agony knowing that it had been for _him..._

That fucking _bastard_ \- had made him god damn _care-_

 _And then just-_

 _No, no, no, nonononono, FUCK YOU Mustang, nooo no no-_

 _NO!_

Ed just kept hitting him until flesh knuckles were bruised raw and bleeding, red trails snaking down his arm in rivulets. His metal arm glinted as beautiful, impeccable steel in fire's murderous light, cold with perfection's cruelty, and it swung forward one more time to smash so hard against Landslide's jaw he heard the soft shattering of bone.

And then, he just sat there.

Mind, blank. Hand, bleeding. Heart, pounding.

Mustang, dead.

The heat of the blaze reached him even as he knelt now so far away, and it glowed in delicious insanity even behind closed eyelids.

Mustang, _dead._

Underneath his locked knee, Landslide's torso shuddered slowly with the force of a ragged breath, and Ed just looked at his swollen, disfigured face, metallic fist trembling. Mustang, _dead_ , Landslide, _alive,_ and him, just, _alone,_ and-

" _AGHHHHHH!"_

The scream burst from denial and brought his automail arm hurtling down one last time to smash into the earth. It shattered stone until he was buried up to his elbow, and with that, Ed was just done.

Utterly spent, he simply keeled over, the only thing he could focus on now his own breaths and his own despair.

His eyes burned again, this time not with smoke or heat but the wetness that welled in them, but simply without the strength to scream again, the grief came out as a sob instead.

He had no idea how long he knelt there, paralyzed in the horror of it all, until the voices came to drag him backwards out of this hell and straight into another one.

" _Edward!"_

" _Ed! Ed! Are you okay?! ED!_

Hawkeye...

Hughes...

"Edward, talk to us!"

"Ed, come on!"

This time even closer than before, and he jolted, blinking in the stillness. Hawkeye. Hughes. Here.

How?

When hands finally came, Hughes lifting him with a grunt back off of Landslide and Hawkeye still standing above him, gun ready and hand on the trigger, stare an unforgiving one of hate that said she was only one wrong move away from pulling it, and then Hughes sat him down in a panic and began to search all over him, looking for injury, something in Ed's mind just broke.

"Ed, what on earth happened?! Why are you here?! Are you okay?!"

Hughes and Hawkeye were here.

Backup had finally come after all.

Just minutes too late.

"Oh my god, Ed! This isn't your automail! Your leg- your _leg-_ oh my god, what did you do?!"

"Edward, are you all right? And what about the colonel?! Where is Colonel Mustang?!"

 _Mustang..._

The heat of fire glowed as dying embers in his mind, wavering hungrily and devouring bone, and with that, Ed no longer even had the strength to stand. He fell limply to his knees, shaking still, and any words remained out of reach.

 _He's dead..._

 _He just died..._

 _Mustang just died._

 _For me._

" _Ed!_ Talk to us! Come on!"

"Edward!"

Bonelessly, like a puppet with its strings being pulled from above, Ed raised a limp hand to point once at the inferno that was the third train car. The blaze roared a little higher, flames soaring to at least thirty feet in the air, and his heart clenched.

"That's where he is," he whispered, and he watched as his hand curled into a fist in the smokey air. "That's where Mustang is."

All that followed was a dead silence.

At last, Hughes's hands left his shoulders, and the investigator sat shakily beside him, pale and drawn. Hughes dropped his head into his hands, breaths unsteady, gasped out a soft, "Roy, _no,"_ and Ed knew he had come to the same conclusion as he had.

Hawkeye did not even move.

She just stared at the fire, paralyzed entirely, her gun still held tightly and trained on Landslide's unconscious body but her stare was turned away to gaze into blinding fire, eyes wide in absolute disbelief.

No one would know the colonel's limitations better than her, Ed realized belatedly. She would know that even the Flame Alchemist would be unable to survive that fire. She knew, too, by looking alone, that Mustang was dead.

All the energy just left him, and Ed fell onto his back, staring up at the sky. The smoke made his eyes burn and sting, water welling to trail down his cheeks as tears, and he blinked once, feeling his body start to shake.

When he started screaming, he didn't stop until need for air left him lightheaded and breathless, and even then, the moment he had stolen in a greedy grasp, the trapped emotion growing in his throat begged for release again, and he had to bite into his already split lip to stop it from coming out.

That _fucking_ colonel- was _not_ going to make him fucking _care-_ was _NOT_ going to work his way to stand closer to Ed than anyone had since his mother had died- and _then-_

He _could not-_

"Edward, Hughes! Stop! _Listen!"_

Hawkeye's command barely even registered.

Because her voice had _hope,_ and there was simply no hope left.

Hughes looked up from beside him, shaking his head at the lieutenant. "Hawkeye, stop. Come on. He's not... Roy couldn't have-"

"Can't you hear that, Hughes?!" Hawkeye lowered her gun at last and whirled to face the both of them, desperation coloring her tear streaked face, and she pointed wildly at the fire. " _Listen!_ It's him!"

Hughes just stared back at her now, the sadness unchanging, and Ed had to look away. He wasn't about to try and convince Hawkeye that Mustang was-

 _-not dead._

Ed sat bolt upright, his ears straining.

It was faint, and the roar of the fire was impossibly loud. It difficult to sift through the crackle of fire and listen for something human- but...

There _was_ something human there.

It took him a few more moments to realize just what exactly it was, but when he did, his heart soared.

It was the colonel's voice, and he was screaming.

It was _Mustang._

Mustang was screaming.

Ed was on his feet before he even knew what he was doing, metal one creaking and human one screaming, and he joined Hawkeye, staring in disbelief at the conflagration. Somehow, some dammed impossible way- Mustang was still alive.

"Oh my god," Hughes gasped only a moment later, the grief in his voice vanishing into shock. "That's- that's _Roy."_

They all just stared for a moment, paralyzed in disbelief and shock.

Then Hughes burst into a sprint forward, the spell was broken, and Ed tossed his dignity aside without a second thought to jump onto Hawkeye's back and head for the third train car.


	6. Chapter 6

Thank you for reviewing! Short chapter here again, but next one is the last one (unless I split the finale into two parts, because it's looking to be a very long chapter). The final scene is still under construction as well, so I'm not sure when the next update will come, but it should hopefully not be too long. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

" _Roy!"_

" _Colonel!"_

" _Mustang! Bastard! Answer us!"_

" _ROY!"_

Ed howled the colonel's name against the fire, but it was all in vain. Mustang hadn't stopped screaming to answer them, constantly _screeching_ in a hearstopping wail of agony. It was the sound of torture, and from the fire still surrounding them, Ed didn't have to guess at what had left him in such pan.

Whatever had happened to him, though, it was clear that while the colonel was still awake, he was in too much pain to truly be aware. He couldn't speak to them like this. If he could even hear them at all over the fire, he wouldn't be able to comprehend what they were saying.

That didn't stop him from trying.

"God damn it, _Mustang! Al! Someone, answer us!"_

"Ed, it's no use!" Hughes shouted at him over the fire, standing back to wipe his face and cough from the smoke. "Roy's not talking, and I doubt Al can even hear us over the fire and Roy! We've got to start finding a way to put this fire out!"

"There's _not one!"_ Ed turned desperately, looking towards the tunnel they had made before, but it was simply no use. In the explosion Mustang had set off earlier, the already unstable ground had caved in. The first tunnel was clearly impassable, and creating a second would be far too risky. He squinted back at the fire, his mind racing. "Is there any more backup coming?!"

It was Hawkeye who answered him this time, still pacing frantically around the blaze to find a way in. "Yes! We came on our own and beat them here- the official teams the military sent out as backup should be here in half an hour!"

"Damn it, that's too much time!"

Torn, Ed hobbled a step back. This was entirely up to him. Hughes and Hawkeye, while brilliant and resourceful in their own rights, were not alchemists. He was the only one here who could put an end to this fire- but he had never once studied flame or water alchemy. It just _wasn't possible-_

Ed only a few seconds away from absolute despair, Mustang picked the perfect time to stop screaming.

They all jolted at the sudden silence, staring at the fire. He'd broken for air before but always jumped right back in, but this time- there was nothing.

No more Mustang screaming.

Nothing at all, now.

"...Colonel Mustang?!"

" _Roy!_ If you can hear us _, say something!"_

" _MUSTANG!"_

"Brother?!"

Ed gasped, moving forward as fast as possible. Thank _god._ "Al?! Al, is that you?!"

"Yes! Brother, are you okay?!"

"I'm fine, I'm fine! What about you?! And what's with Mustang?!"

An uncertain pause, and then Al shouted back another reply; Ed could hear the worry and concern in his voice rising with each word he spoke. "I'm fine, but Colonel Mustang- he's... it's really, _really_ bad, Brother! I don't know how much longer he's going to make it! He's _dying,_ Brother!"

His heart jolted like he'd just been shocked.

"Wha... _what?!"_

"What's wrong with him?!"

"Is he awake?! Roy!"

Once again, it took Al a few moments to reply, clearly trying to ascertain the situation for himself. "He's awake still, but I don't think he's aware of anything, and he's hyperventilating! I can't get him to stop- I think it's the air, Brother! I think he just can't breathe anymore! And his arms- he's already been burned really badly! Brother, you have to hurry!"

Ed swore, covering his mouth with his hand. _Of course._ He'd already known that at some point the air was going to get too thick with smoke for Mustang to keep breathing- but _now_ of all times-

" _Brother!_ His lips are turning blue!"

 _Shit, shit shit shit, what do I do, what the hell do I do, Mustang- shitfuck- MUSTANG-_

"Brother, we can't wait anymore! We've got to get him out!"

" _How?!"_ Because god bless Al if he had an idea, Ed sure didn't...

"There's no one else in the train car except us now! It doesn't matter if we trigger a collapse anymore if we can get him out!"

Ed gasped, staring at the fire in horror. "It'll collapse on _you,_ Al! _No!"_

"But I'll be fine, Brother! Don't argue with me- I'm already getting him to you! He's _not breathing!_ You need to get him out of here!"

"But-!" Ed swore again, fists clenching. Al was right, damn it. Fire? Nothing to him. The wreckage collapsing around him? Again, absolutely nothing to him. And by the sound of it Mustang was still _trying_ to breathe, he just couldn't, which meant if they could just get him out into fresh air, everything would be fine.

The fact that getting him out here required trapping Al under the burning remains of a train car, besides making him mad enough to scream, was simply irrelevant.

Cursing again, Ed hobbled after the sounds of his brother, glancing once over his shoulder at where Hughes and Hawkeye stood, both clearly stunned and horrified. "You two better be ready to help Mustang. I'm going after Al the second he's out here!"

They both started, then nodded once, not even trying to protest, and with that Ed limped as close as he could to the fire and leaned forward, listening for his brother as hard as he could.

"Brother, this is the best place! There's just this one sheet of metal in the way!"

"Got it!" He touched his hands together, already breathing hard in the smoke and fighting the urge to cough. "I'll take it out, you try and brace it up. I'll stick my hand in there, you give the colonel to me, and I'll get out as fast as possible, okay?"

"Got it!"

There was no more time for preparation, mental or physical. No more time to think of any other plan, no more time to worry, no more time to even just breathe. Every single second they stood there, Mustang _couldn't_ breathe. They had to go _now,_ or in just a few minutes, possibly even less, there would be no point at all.

Ed stuck his hands to the metal, carving a hole large enough to drag a human body out of it, then dove his metal limb as far into the fire as it could go and waited.

The moment something hit his grip, he curled his hand into a fist and _pulled._

First a leg, clad in military blue that was stained with blood and ash, and then the moment he could he grabbed for Mustang's thigh instead of his ankle and yanked again, working his other leg out of the hole. The colonel wasn't moving at all now, either to resist him or help him, and Ed gritted his teeth, hauling again on the unconscious body. His torso, when it finally emerged, was so covered in blood it was nauseating, but Ed continued to pull, dislodging the metal sheet an inch more with every bit the colonel was yanked out of the train car.

When the first arm was freed, Ed was so horrified he almost dropped the bastard's leg and forgot to keep on pulling.

The skin had been burned off.

Sleeve surely nothing but ash by now, his whole arm was bared, and while Ed might have expected a few injuries, what he saw now tore its way straight through his stomach of iron and lodged itself right under the sight of his own leg being torn off as the second goriest thing he had seen in his life.

His skin... was _gone..._

Blood leaked in obscene amounts, trailing freely down exposed tissue and tendons in a red so dark it was almost black. The little skin that remained existed in a frail patchwork; from wrist to shoulder, little island remnants of scorched pale flesh were entirely circled by scarlet muscle tissue and onyx lines of blood, fire having bit down all the way to the bone.

Hot acid abruptly rose in his throat, and Ed jerked around to throw up on the ground.

Mustang.

 _Mustang._

 _I did this to him... he blew up the train car for me, and now he's... oh my god, his arm..._

Mustang's howls of agony rang in his ears again, now that he knew what had caused them the sound even more horrible to bear now than before, and another wave of nausea brought him to his knees.

With a jolt, he realized just _what_ that thick, cloying smell permeating the air was, and he wanted to scream.

The smell of burning flesh.

He could smell Mustang _burning._

" _Ed!"_

" _Edward!"_

The sound of hurried footsteps behind him made him jump, and Ed whirled shakily back around just as Hughes and Hawkeye joined him from behind. He heard himself mumble something, some sort of assurance that he was okay, but he could see nothing but Mustang's ruined arm flopping outside of the wreck, unspeakably limp, even when he just grabbed onto the bastard's leg again and heaved.

Hughes and Hawkeye pulled with him, and with their combined efforts, they jerked Mustang out an extra foot and freed his head.

For the second time in as many minutes, Ed was nearly floored with shock.

White as a sheet, cheeks streaked with faded and smeared black lines of ash, hair a mess of actual glowing sparks dotted through the hanging black strands, head lolling exhaustedly on one shoulder, and from the limp and injured state of the rest of his body, Ed had just assumed the colonel was out of it.

He wasn't.

His eyes were wide open with absolute, red-rimmed panic, his neck was straining, and his cheeks and lips were blue.

" _Colonel!"_

"Roy! Roy! Oh my god-"

His eyes started to flutter closed- panic never once leaving him- the look of choking on lack of air never once departing-

"Damn it, bastard, breathe! _Breathe!"_ Ed grabbed at the colonel by the collar and pulled his face up until barely inches separated them, shaking him as hard as he dared. _"_ Breathe, Mustang! Don't you dare pass out now! _Breathe!_ "

One choked non-breath- then another, sheer terror burning in black eyes, and then-

he _breathed._

The first gasp was more of a frantic wheeze, but Mustang's eyes shocked back open at the taste of air and he breathed again, more deeply this time, and he kept on going, gasping like a fish on land. The blue of hypoxia began to fade, fear started to drain from his eyes, and then his stare locked with Ed's.

He held it there, Ed scarcely able to breathe, and Mustang's eyes hazy and blank of all comprehension and recognition, until the colonel's head lolled backwards, his eyes rolled back, and the man passed out.

This time, Hughes and Hawkeye didn't even bother to drag him out of his shock. The investigator went for the Mustang's limp hand, the trusty lieutenant to grab him around the waist, and with one final heave, the colonel was freed, and the three were sent tumbling backwards in a heap.

Unfortunately, the force they'd had to use in freeing Mustang was also simply the last blow the devastatingly unstable wreckage could take, and with that, it began to crumble in the collapse they'd spent this entire time trying to prevent.

The last thing he saw was Al's soulfire eyes, just watching him, before the downfall of ash and metal tumbled between them.

" _AL!"_

" _BROTHER!"_


	7. Chapter 7

This is it, folks! It took me a little while, and honestly, I've really just giving up and just posting it. I've rewritten the final scene so many times, and for weeks, by this point; I finally had it somewhere good this afternoon, and then, of course, we lost the GODDAMN POWER. At that point, it just became a lost battle. I can't fight with it anymore. Regardless of the final scene's state, this has been a fun ride for me to write, and the response I've gotten has really made me happy! I mostly hang around fandoms for long complete shows nowadays, which normally means a very small audience, so any reviews or hits that I get always make me very happy :) Thanks, all of you!

That being said, I'm not sure if I'll be hanging around much in the future. I'm an aspiring novelist, so what I write really does need to be my novel, not fanfiction; the only reason this burst of FMA fics happened at all is because my muse demanded it and I learned a long time ago it's easier not to fight her. As always, if she demands something in the future, then something will likely happen- but I think I've finally worked my way out of this two month long need to write about Roy. So this is most likely sayonara, for now :) Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Ed woke up gasping.

Hands were on his shoulders before he realized he'd tried to sit up, before he'd realized he was swaying unsteadily, before he'd even realized he was _awake,_ really, and they were talking at him many seconds before he could even comprehend words.

"...you need to take it easy!"

"Everything's okay, and I'm fine, too, Brother, I promise!"

"Relax, Ed, you're in a- Ed, are you listening to me? Ed, can you hear me?!"

"Brother!"

He blinked at last, the blinding white finally fading into the blurred color of reality. Ed put a hand to his head, wincing, and blinked again until his vision righted itself, and he could see Hughes and Al.

The both of them stood in front of him, each holding onto one of his shoulders and staring at him in an outright concern. He managed a weak grin, just trying to put them both at ease, and nodded once, shoulders shaking. "I'm- I'm good. I'm good now. Promise."

Hughes and Al looked at each other, seeming a little uncertain, then cautiously released him and took a step back.

His body swayed traitorously nearly instantly, and the pair were right back on him.

"Oi, like I said, take it easy, Ed!" Hughes told him, unceremoniously pushing him to lie down on his back, while Al scolded and worried as well, shaking his head at him.

"Brother, you were hit in the head a lot! You have a really bad concussion, so you need to stay still!"

"Wha..." he grumbled, rubbing his head again, then narrowed his eyes. "Oh. Landslide."

Hughes's expression darkened, and the man nodded once. "Yeah. You remember him?"

Ed nodded as well, then regretted it when, even lying down, it left him dizzy. "I- yeah... he... what happened to him?" A flicker of memories hit him; the rumble of earth, the unsteadiness of ground beneath his feet, the glow of a transmutation necklace- and the swelling of the man's face, even as his hand came down for another punch.

A shiver ran down his spine.

Hughes scowled faintly, folding his arms and taking a step back. "The bastard was barely alive, by the time the backup worked their way around to dealing with him. Last I heard, he's being led through a rush trial to get slated for execution. ...Sixteen people died in that crash, and the military's none too happy with him."

Ed sighed. His own opinions on the death penalty aside, after everything he'd gone through because of the bastard, he wasn't about to say a word in his defense. He leaned back for a moment, rubbing his eyes, and tried to force his pounding head to sift through more memories of the crash. He didn't remember transmuting Al back into a whole suit of armor again, but he clearly must have, because there was just no way his brother had escaped the collapse unscathed-

The collapse.

 _Mustang._

Ed jerked upright once more, and this time talked straight through the vertigo that hit him and Hughes and Al exclaiming for him to lie still.

"What happened to Mustang?!"

Hughes abruptly stilled, the very question looking as if it had stricken him. Almost terrified now, Ed turned to Al, who spoke through his own unease to appease him but still was unable to meet his eyes. "He's alive, Brother, don't worry, but..."

"But _what?!"_

Recovering himself, Hughes moved to intercede. Still drawn and pale, the man sat back down, interlacing his fingers, and looked at him seriously for a long moment. He looked awful, like he had barely slept at all and spent entire nights up worrying, and Ed's heart sank even lower before the man had even started to talk. "Ed, it's a long story, and you're probably not going to like what we have to tell you. You want to hear it anyway?"

Ed didn't have to devote even a fraction of a second to thinking about that answer.

"What the hell did that bastard do, Hughes?"

The investigator sighed deeply.

Then, with no more attempts at preamble, he began.

"When Roy tried to attack Landslide, the explosion rebounded. He managed to blow up Landslide, yes- but he also set off one inside the train car. Looks like he shielded his head and face with his arms, so it didn't kill him, but both his arms... well, you saw the damage, Ed."

"It was really bad, Brother," Al said softly, looking away towards the door and bowing his head. "The explosion blew him back into me and he hit his head, so he was out of it for a few minutes, and I managed to use his jacket to put out the fires on him, but... it didn't matter. It was too late. When he finally came to, he just... he just stared screaming."

Ed swallowed, a chill running down his spine. The hellish sight of the colonel's burned arms hit him again like a sucker punch to the gut, and the unearthly howling of agony returned to him with it, echoing in his mind as the only proof that Mustang had survived, and he shivered, struggling to block it out.

In the moment, it had been one of the best things he'd ever heard in his life.

Now, he wished he had never even heard it.

Al shifted as well, seeming to feel just as he did. "When he woke up, the fire was really bad and it was just going to get worse. I don't know how he did it, but he somehow managed to concentrate enough, and he just started trying to draw out a transmutation circle. It was awful, Brother, he only had the ash and his own blood to work with, and he could barely even stay conscious- and I didn't recognize some of the symbols; I didn't even know what he was trying to do, but it wasn't like I could stop him!"

"Wait- what?" Ed broke in, surprised. "A transmutation circle?" What had happened to the great Flame Alchemist being unable to put out fires, then? What on earth had he been trying to transmute?

Al nodded. "Yeah. I didn't even know what he'd done until we got back to Central and I could do some research... he thinned the oxygen, Brother. He pushed away all the oxygen that he could as far as he could get it. That was why he couldn't breathe- it wasn't the smoke; he made the air so thin he couldn't even breathe it."

Hughes tsked judgmentally and turned away, folding his arms with a huff. It clearly wasn't his first time hearing the story, and Ed sat back limply in shock, just watching as the investigator went off. "Daring plan, I'll give Roy that; fire needs oxygen, after all. He pushed away the fire and kept himself alive long enough for you two to get him out. And I'll never know how he managed to concentrate when he'd already been burned so badly, but... _damn it,_ Roy, if you could just _not_ take such dangerous risks, that'd really be great."

"He didn't really have a choice, Hughes..."

Ed shook his head slowly, rubbing his temples with one hand. Unbelievable. The bastard whined at _him_ for taking risks and then pulled something like this...

Hughes sighed again, rubbing his eyes under his glasses as he turned back to face them. "Right. Well, when we got Roy out of the train car, Hawkeye grabbed him immediately and took him back to Central. I stayed with you and we dug Al out; military showed up a few minutes after you transmuted him back, Ed."

"Er, mostly," Al piped up, raising his hand and waving it. Ed started at the sight of only two fingers, and then found himself being forced back down on the bed by both of them again.

"I just need to-"

" _No!"_ they ordered him together, Hughes shaking his head and his brother glowering, and after a long moment of glaring, Ed fell back in defeat with a huff.

"It would only take a second," he muttered sullenly, but Al shook his head again.

"No! I'm fine for now, Brother. But you were seriously hurt! I'm not going to let you try and transmute anything for me until Winry gets up here to fix your leg next week, okay?"

Ed winced, glancing at the empty spot under the sheet where his leg should've been. They'd taken out his shabby replacement, then. Honestly, he was glad; it had hurt so much no leg at all was better, and the little mobility it had provided him had been so clunky and unnatural compared to his automail it just wasn't worth it. Winry was still going to murder him, at any rate, so at least he'd spend his last week alive not in excruciating pain.

Slowly, his small smile fading, Ed dropped his hand back down to feel at the empty sockets of his leg. The short moment of what could barely qualify as mirth had passed already, in its place settling a very uncomfortable silence. "...Mustang, then?" he prodded at last, unwilling to be the one to break it but simply unable to stand it anymore, and Hughes sighed.

"We headed back to Central after him. It was the closest city with a hospital that could treat him," he said, sitting back in his chair and folding his arms, face still serious. "That was two days ago. You passed out sometime during the car ride back; like Al said, you had- _have_ \- a serious head injury." He scowled then, mouth twitching as he looked him over again. "Do you even realize how badly you were injured, Ed? Just against Landslide- your shoulder was dislocated, fracture in your tibia, yesterday I could barely _recognize_ you, your face was so badly bruised- he broke four of your ribs, Ed! You can die from that! And do you realize how dangerous what you did with your leg was?! You could've given yourself nerve damage! You dislocated what's left of your femur!"

Ed blinked, nonplussed, and found himself reaching down to feel the empty sockets. He'd honestly had no idea it had been so bad... not that it mattered much, he thought with a scowl. "Didn't exactly have much a choice, Hughes," he grumbled under his breath, again looking towards his legs, one missing, one in a plaster cast. "Unless you're going to tell me I should've just run away, like Mustang told me to?"

".,.Roy said that?"

"Yeah," he grumbled again, glowering at the memory. "Idiot decided that was in my best interests. Apparently didn't care much that that meant he'd burn to death... although I guess maybe that's what he was after, given how things turned up."

Ed had expected chastisement from his brother for that one, and he got it, Al exclaiming his name with the tone of a scolding; he'd also expected that to be the end of that. Al had given up long ago trying to get him to play nice with Mustang.

Except, this time, Al just kept going.

"Brother, you would've died if he hadn't helped you! That's why he did it! I couldn't help you, there was _nothing_ I could do, you were about to get _killed!_ Y- _you..."_ Al broke off for a moment, massive hands clenched so tight around the bedrail that metal groaned in protest. "Colonel Mustang was just as terrified as I was... he didn't have a choice! You... you were going to get killed if he didn't do something..."

He gritted his teeth in response, glaring blackly at the bedsheets. Like he hadn't already known that in the first place.

It was just a lot easier to go about this thinking that explosion had been because Mustang was an idiot bastard pyromaniac, and not...

 _Not to save me._

A lot easier.

Hughes at last cleared his throat uncomfortably in the silence, looking cautiously between him and Al. The tension in the air was so thick Ed could've cut it with a butter knife, but Hughes had never been one to be silenced by something like that. "So, ah... regardless of how it happened..." he ventured, clearly trying to diffuse the stiff silence between them. "The both of you will be okay in the long run. Ed, now that you're awake, someone's probably going to want to look at your leg- you did a lot of damage, with taking out your own automail then trying to make your own, so they want to make sure everything's healing well. As for Roy, the doctors are being cautious; he's okay, for now, but the danger with burns is infection. If something happens, then, amputation will be a possibility, but... that's only if things go wrong. If things stay as they are now, then both of you will be fine, Ed."

The investigator waited another few moments, gaze moving between the two of them again. When neither said anything, Hughes sighed, tugging on his collar. "I think I'll just... go check on Roy again," he said lamely, fooling absolutely no one, and backed swiftly out of the room. He clearly wanted to give them a chance to talk.

Which, normally, would've been appreciated, but this time, Ed just couldn't vocalize internal turmoil into words, and, more importantly, he really did not want to even try.

At last, he simply turned away from Al and glared at the opposite wall, flexing his bruised hand beneath the sheets. He just couldn't deal with this now. Could not. Did not want to. Whatever.

Fuck Mustang.

Metal creaked behind him, his brother shifting uneasily. "Are you okay, Brother?" he asked at last, voice unsure.

"...No," he said, and shut his eyes.

* * *

Heat.

Heat... everywhere.

 _So much... my god..._

 _It's everywhere-_

 _I can't-_

 _It HURTS-_

"Roy?"

 _Roy... Roy. My name. You know me? Do you know me?_

 _Can you help me?_

 _Please..._

"H... h...ot..."

 _Please, cool me down, knock me out, please, whatever you need to do, please, please, please_

"You're hot? I know. I'm sorry; there's nothing I can give you for it. Don't try and move your arms, Roy."

His arms? God, his arms. His _arms._ Heat emanated from them both like they were no longer skin at all but just a bed of lit coals; moving them? He couldn't even grasp the idea that those things were a part of him at all, never mind _move_ them.

"Hot," he rasped again, voice scratchy like death's rattle, and forced himself to blink in the darkness. "Hot. Water. _Water."_

"You got it. Hold your horses."

Roy gasped again, feeling his eyes water, and blinked again until a fuzzy blur reappeared above him. "Ice chips. Best you're going to get, for now. ...Your throat's sore because of the smoke inhalation. Your stunt thinning the air didn't help, either."

The blessed feeling of wet cold slid down his throat, and he weakly licked his lips, begging without words for more, until the blur stepped back and no more was given. He blinked a few more times, vision slowly clearing, until at last the figure took form. "...Maes?" he coughed, and the man nodded.

"Welcome back, partner."

He coughed again, feeling his entire body shake, and squinted. "...Look awful," was all of eloquence that came out of his mouth, the host of questions hovering somewhere in the midst of a medicated fog all too busy fighting each other for superiority to come out first.

Maes didn't even crack a smile. "Perhaps because up all night for days worrying about you. What you did was dammed stupid, Roy, I hope you know that."

The words flickered gently in his memory like the flames of a candle, licking against a more vicious and oppressive heat than the one smothering him now, and he remembered the flash of light, the hot expansion of air, the _slam_ of body against metal and the _woosh_ of air from his lungs. "We're whispering," he whispered, voice muted only to follow Maes' example, and because he didn't quite have the strength to speak up louder. The _why_ got lost somewhere in his throat, but Maes didn't need it.

With a knowing look, the investigator raised a finger to his lips, then looked towards his right. Turning his head took just a little more effort than Roy wanted to give right now, but he made himself anyway, and the sight waiting for him made pain flare again, this time coupled with regret.

Riza was fast asleep next to him. Out of uniform, hair released from its tight clip, head sagging onto her chest in a display of outright exhaustion... never mind Maes' appearance; the woman looked _terrible._ Like she'd barely slept in weeks, with dark purple shadows carved in under her eyes and her face drained of color...

"She's been scared to death. Hasn't left your side since we got you back to Central. ...You remember anything about that, Roy? Why you're back in Central?"

The heat stirred memories again, the glow of fire and the heat of burning metal hissing behind his eyes, and he made himself nod again, tasting air that was filled with smoke.

Maes sighed, some of his worried pallor lifting, and he rubbed a hand over his face, clearly relieved. "Good. Makes things a little easier, then."

Swallowing dryly, Roy felt his gaze be dragged of his closest friend again, once more landing on Riza. The sight of her made him flinch as much as an exhausted and burning body could, and he stared at her, sluggish mind tumbling over the questions whose answers he wasn't sure he wanted to face. _How long has she been here? Is she okay?_

And, then, even more uncertain than that- _how long have I been here? ...Am I okay?_

"Time?" he managed hoarsely, simply incapable right now of putting so much into words.

Maes, thankfully, understood he was asking for more than could be given by a watch.

"Been a week and a half, since we reached Central. We've only been allowed to actually see you the past three days, though." His gaze darkened for a moment, and the investigator swiftly broke his gaze, pulling off his glasses to rub his eyes in fatigue. "You... you burned your arms. Here to here, both of them." Maes drew lines on his own arm, circling his shoulder and then again circling his knuckles. Roy was simply in too much pain to feel shock, and Maes looked back at him for a moment, clearly troubled. "We think you tried to cover your head and face with your arms. If that's the case, you probably saved your life, but it's going to take you a few more weeks in this room to regrow the skin that you even can."

A few weeks? This one alone had passed in the blink of eye. Given the fog of medications currently swamping through his brain, though, he had little doubt as to how he'd managed to sleep through such impossible heat, such indescribable _agony._ The next few weeks probably wouldn't pass as easily for him... he knew from experience how reluctantly burns healed.

A morbid chuckle found its way into his throat. The Flame Alchemist, burned. He was sure Ed, at least, would find the irony in it.

The chuckle died before it started, and the uneasy beat of hot agony in his arms flared again.

"E-Ed..."

 _Ed...!_

"M-Maes- Ed, he, h-h-he-"

"Roy, relax. Roy, _Roy,_ look at me- _hey, relax,_ Roy!" Two hands grabbed his face, forcing him to focus, Maes's green eyes abruptly directly in front of his own and making him hold his stare. The sound of his own panicked breaths still screeched in his ears but Maes didn't back away, refusing to retreat and instead simply standing there and making him concentrate.

"Roy. Ed is _fine._ Al is too. They're both alive, Roy."

Oh.

 _Oh._

"Th...thank... god..."

The sight of Ed, down, and the enemy standing above him, ready for one final strike remained with him, flickering behind his eyes, and the feel of a frantic snap of shaking fingertips remained. The terror of the idea of being too late, the screeching howl of Ed's scream, the horror in Al's eyes, the torture of simply _not knowing-_

 _I was worried he was... dead..._

Maes's touched two fingers to his forehead, feeling his temperature, then sighed. "Your fever's a little lower, but it's not gone. You should try and sleep some more."

Sleep sounded enticing, beautiful, even, and the knowledge about Ed and Al's safety had been the last thing he'd needed before he could truly calm down. He glanced exhaustedly in his lieutenant's direction, then back at Maes, struggling to work up enough iron will to give an order. "Tell Riza... to go home- sleep..."

Maes eyed him for a moment, frowning. "You can tell her yourself, Roy. In fact, you will have to, because she won't listen to any orders I've given her. Yours are the only ones she'll follow, right now. I told you, she's been scared to death. Whatever your reasons were, Roy, that, _this-_ it's _not_ okay."

"Just trying to k-keep Ed... safe..."

Maes sighed again. "You can explain yourself later. Right now just stop trying to pretend it doesn't hurt and go to sleep, Roy."

Go to sleep...

The heat puled even behind closed eyes, but it was a little less when he gave in to the exhaustion surrounding him, and before he knew it his self control was fading and sleep was only seconds away.

Thank every deity that he didn't believe in that Ed and Al were okay, because he really hated it to realize it, but he'd been scared, and... and they were okay...

* * *

The days before Winry arrived were downright awful.

Automail leg gone and fracture in his flesh leg left him unable to go anywhere except in a wheelchair, which _sucked_ , first of all, and second of all reminded him too much of when he'd first lost his leg in the first place, to the point that he preferred staying in bed over using the dammed thing. Which was fine, for the first few days, when he still hurt all over, but by the end of the week he was about to lose his mind.

Hughes had stopped hovering after the beginning of the week, although he still came by once a day, and he'd already made it clear that once Winry had fitted him out with new automail, his guest room was theirs. The offer was not just an invitation, of course; quite simply, he and Al were _going_ to be staying at Hughes's place, until the man deemed him recovered enough to be on his own.

Normally, Ed would've groused a bit about it and tried to protest it, but now, he just really didn't have it in him.

After all, _normally,_ his first instinct upon finally being released from the hospital was to march straight to Mustang's office and demand his next mission. The Stone was most important, after all. They couldn't stop running, not until they found it; as much as he liked Hughes, there'd be time for really getting to know his family once he and Al finally had their bodies back.

Now, though, he couldn't go to Mustang's office.

There was always the option of just requesting a temporary transfer to another's command, for the time being; in fact, it would probably happen anyway, at some point. Mustang was going to be out of commission for a lot longer than him, and there was no logical reason for him to just wait around until the colonel was back at work to go on his next mission.

But right now, after what the bastard had done for him- no matter how fucking angry he was about it, Mustang had saved his _life_ at the near expense of his own. He just couldn't stomach the idea of going to request getting another CO, even if it would be just for temporary convenience.

He couldn't leave on his next mission, then, because _fuck him,_ it was already decided: the moment Mustang was recovered enough to not die from a punch to the face, he was getting one.

Unfortunately, that was looking like it was going to take a while.

His clavicle had been completely shattered in the train crash, taking one arm out of commission, several of his ribs had been broken, and he'd managed to garner a head injury of his own. Al had been with him when Hawkeye had told them, and been surprised; apparently all Mustang had said was that something was wrong with his shoulder, and all the bastard had said to him was that he couldn't move his arm- the injuries should've been severe enough to have him laid out screaming, not still crawling around in the ash to try and find other survivors. Ed had just scowled a little and looked away at that one. Sure, he'd give in and pay the man a compliment- if admitting to his endurance could even count as that- just as soon as the colonel quit calling him shrimp.

However, those injuries were far from the worst of it.

The burns were what had put his life in danger, and they were the reason he would be in the hospital for likely weeks after Ed had left it. Medical alchemy was still progressing, but unless they had Marcoh and his philosopher's stone handy, burns remained beyond them. Healing burns meant creating human skin.

That wasn't possible.

There were also a few less severe burns along Mustang's chest and his face, left behind from Al's armor that had been heated beyond what human skin could withstand when his brother had had to lift the colonel to get him out of the train car. Al had been horrified to see them, and promptly spent the next hour apologizing nonstop to Hawkeye for them no matter how adamantly she'd told him it was not necessary.

Ed only knew because Hawkeye had told him, afterwards, that he should talk to his brother about it- he had refused to see Mustang, and still had yet to take even one step into his room.

The bastard was out of it, anyway, he told himself stubbornly. He'd been kept heavily sedated until just recently, the doctors saying the pain would be too much for him to handle if awake. Hughes had told them only yesterday that Mustang had revisited consciousness, but it was only briefly, and coherency had been questionable at best. There was no point in seeing standing there to watch him sleep or listen to him be delirious.

Saying that did nothing to quiet the uneasy thoughts that muttered at him that it was more than that.

Seeing Mustang like that...

Ed couldn't put the exact feeling into words, really, but he just knew he didn't want to. He _didn't want_ to see Mustang hurt like that, nor did he want to admit it was really possible. This wasn't something minor that would heal in a few days; he couldn't look at the bastard and point and make fun this time. It was funny, when Mustang would snarl at him and swear that the moment he had his gloves back, he was going to be incinerated- and now-

It wasn't funny.

The fact of the matter was, Mustang could've died. Had come very close to it- as close as Ed had come, the day he'd lost his limbs. And there was something about that that was not okay. Mustang was supposed to be _safe_ , god damn him, sitting up all high and mighty in his stupid office, ordering others but not actually in danger himself. The only one person Ed could accept being in danger was his brother, and that was only because Al had made him realize this journey was one they had to go at together, not alone.

But he didn't want to even think about the idea of anyone else in danger of getting killed.

They'd already lost their mother and their bodies, never had a father to begin with... they already had precious little left to lose, and each loss was more painful than the last.

He supposed that was bothering him, really.

The fact that Mustang had somehow managed to worm his way onto that minuscully short list of people he couldn't stand to lose.

* * *

Three and a half weeks after their return to Central, Ed finally gave into his brother's cajoling, Hughes's expectant prodding, and Hawkeye's unbelievably sad, absolute killer of a one liner: _He'd really like to see you, you know..._

It should've been criminal, how sadly she'd looked at him when she'd said that.

But, brutally unfair guilt trips being the reason or not (he knew damn well the bastard had said nothing of the sort), somehow, Ed found himself standing at the door to Mustang's room, arms folded stubbornly, and heart pounding far faster than he would ever admit to even himself.

Licking his dry lips, Ed shifted from one foot to the other, glaring at the ground, and waited for Mustang to break the silence. When he did not, grimacing even deeper now, Ed made himself clear his throat and speak up.

"...Hey, Colonel."

No response.

When the silence had at last dragged on long enough, his curiosity grew too strong to control, and his eyes flicked up no matter how strongly he wished to keep them fixated on the floor.

Annnnd, of _course._

The bastard wasn't even _awake._

Normally, Ed would've taken the moment to cheer and skip backwards out of the room, rejoicing that the conversation he'd been dreading for weeks had just been postponed another day at the very least. Unfortunately for his future of yet another sleepless night, though, this was also the first time he'd seen Mustang since the train crash, and the sight of him left him rooted to the spot and shocked beyond words.

...

Okay, it really wasn't as bad as he'd imagined it would be.

Unlike Ed, Mustang hadn't been used as a punching bag, so there was no sign of the bruises or discoloration that had needled at Ed every time he looked in a mirror (nearly a month later and _still_ two bruises had yet to fade, _screw_ Landslide). His face wasn't actually all that bad, really, so much as it was just really, really, _tired,_ unshaven skin a sickly sort of pale and eyes sunken, hair a greasy, lank mess, dark circles under his eyes like'd he barely slept in weeks.

His face, while not all that bad, was easily the worst of it, because all the rest of the damage, he couldn't see.

His arms had been bandaged carefully from knuckles to shoulder, and it was the same for the few burns on his chest, leaving thankfully nothing for Ed to goggle at. The only thing he could even see was the uncomfortable looking brace on one shoulder, and that was nothing, compared to what it could've been, to what he'd been imaging all this time, and...

Ed's metal foot, still frozen in a half-step back out the door, slowly lowered back down to the floor and moved forward again.

Yes, right now, he could very easily back right out, tell all the others _fine,_ he'd _visited,_ happy now?, and never have to actually deal with this.

The anxiety twisting deep in his gut was definitely cheering for that option.

And yet, he just couldn't.

Slowly, heart clenching with every step, Ed forced himself the few feet to the nearest chair, dropped down to sit in a slump, and began to wait.

* * *

"Ah... Fullmetal. Glorious. Tell me, to what do I owe this displeasure?"

"Shut up," Ed grunted back without missing a beat.

To be fair, he'd had plenty of warning the bastard was waking up; moaning and groaning for a few minutes, then the annoying clearing of his throat, and then the low intake of breath that had to have meant Mustang had seen him. He'd just let the colonel get the first word in, mostly because he still didn't really want to look at the bastard, and besides, he'd waited for at least an _hour_ on his procrastinating ass. Now it was his turn to be a little lazy.

"I see your manners have yet to improve."

Ed rolled his eyes, now staring at the foot of Mustang's bed rather than the man himself. "And you're still an asshole; not much has changed." He chewed on the inside of his lip, twisting the fingers of his human hand together into one nervous knot. This was a lot harder from this side of the bed; now he had to be one to make conversation, and he _sucked_ at it. "I... how're you feeling?"

"Like complete shit," the colonel returned without pause, and Ed managed to grin at that one.

"Yeah. I imagine."

Another few awkward seconds ticked by, the only sounds those of the hospital, neither one of them knowing what to say. Ed was staring at the wallpaper now, blinking at some unidentifiable stain. Really? This was a hospital, there was a sign right outside the room that said _sterile,_ couldn't they be bothered to clean once in a while-

"How's Al doing?"

He blinked, shifting a little. "Oh. Al's, ah, great, actually. I tracked down another suit of armor for him, transmuted all the parts he was missing. Now he's going a little insane, actually, cause Gracia feels really bad for us both, and she keeps cooking really great stuff that he can smell but, obviously, can't eat. He's already added her cooking about ten times to the list of what he's going to do once he gets his body back."

Mustang chuckled softly at that; Ed continued to look at the stain. "Actually, I can sympathize with Al on this one. Maes keeps bringing what Al's not eating as his lunch and terrorizing me with it. He knows damn well I can't eat yet; he's already said he's doing it to punish me for blowing up the train car."

The words doused what spirit he'd managed to regain talking about Al, and he clenched his fists, staring even harder at the wall. Damn him, speaking about what he'd done so casually, damn him, sounding like he was annoyed at Hughes for something stupid like hogging his professional line for Elicia stories and not something far more deserved, _damn_ him because the words that he had been a fucking _idiot_ were still stuck in his throat and- "Oi, there's nothing wrong with your face, why can't _you_ eat yet?"

There was a pause, and Ed's neck prickled. He could almost feel the withering stare the colonel was using on him now, the effect not nullified even by the stain on the wall.

"I can't move my arms, Fullmetal," Mustang grumbled, and oh, yeah, that stain on the wall was _definitely_ more interesting than looking at him.

"...Oh," he said back.

Another short, uncomfortable silence.

Then:

"If your refusal to look at me is some new, indirect way you've come up with to tell me that my face is ugly, then stop being such an _ass_ about it, Fullmetal. I already know my level of charm has unfortunately dropped in recent days, just give me a few weeks to recover it after I was blown up two times. Although you don't have any room to talk even now, because I've _still_ got more charm than you, _midget."_

" _Bastard!_ I don't give a damn about your stupid games with your stupid women, _yes_ your face is ugly, it always has been and it always will be, _you're_ the ass, and _I'm not fucking short!"_

Mustang smirked, and Ed, still seething, lowered the finger point he'd shoved in the bastard's face in victory.

Then he jerked, realizing it wasn't a victory after all, because Mustang hadn't been trying to insult him, he'd been trying to outwit him into looking away from the wall.

And he'd succeeded.

(Fucking _bastard.)_

It was the first time Ed had looked him in the eye since he'd yanked him out of the train car. And it was a real testament to how bad off he'd been back then that holding his gaze now did manage to be slightly less of a jarring experience, because while he looked downright awful now, back then, lips blue, eyes red and unfocused, face strained in the panic of suffocation-

"Your face actually is ugly, you know," Ed managed to say at last, just bursting out with the first thing to come to his mind to stop that last train of thought from reaching its destination. His voice remained a little too weak for his tastes, but Mustang scowled at him all the same.

"Yeah? Tell that to the nurses. Three phone numbers. Now mine. ...Don't know how they expect me to call them like this, but, still- that's three more phone numbers than you, Fullmetal."

" _Hmph."_ Ed sat back, folding his arms with a stubborn huff. "Already said I don't care about your stupid games with your stupid women." He waited a few moments, metal foot tapping in nervous energy against the floor. "I bet Hawkeye wasn't too pleased about you flirting with other women in front of her."

Mustang's face fell a little, and he looked away, gaze wandering over to the window. He was silent for a few moments, eyes hooded, then said at last, "Lieutenant Hawkeye's actually not talking to me, at the moment. ...She scolded me at first, but now she's just giving me the cold shoulder. I can't tell if it's because she's too upset with me to talk to me or she's just trying to punish me, like Maes." He paused again, still looking out the window rather than at Ed. "Even Al's mad at me. I didn't know he _could_ be mad at someone, other than you. ...I guess that's why you're here, isn't it. You're also going to tell me my strategy was a bad one?"

It wasn't the words so much as the blasé attitude. The words he'd been expecting, and he was used to it from Mustang, anyway, but the very calm, unconcerned way the bastard was looking at him now- that was what bothered him.

Because it confirmed what he'd really known all along: Mustang had known exactly what he was doing when he'd attacked Landslide. Mustang had known his chances of not causing a secondary explosion were slim to none. And he'd known his chances of surviving that explosion were even lower.

And he'd done it anyway.

"...Don't call it a strategy, bastard," he muttered, forcibly having to wrench his metal hand away from the armrest before it clenched so tight it broke the plaster. "Suicide is not a strategy."

Mustang just sighed at him, clearly vexed, clearly still _completely_ unbothered by what he'd done. "If that's why you're here, then you can show yourself out, Fullmetal. I've already heard it from three different people; I get it, you guys aren't fans of what I did. Your opinion isn't going to be so groundbreaking I need to hear it, too."

Ed bit back his angry snap of a response, just _barely_ finding the will to restrain himself but knowing it would get him nowhere. No matter how much he craved the normalcy of an argument with the bastard right now, Ed knew this time, there were things that had to be said. He wasn't going to waste this chance just to shout at him, because right now there were things that were more important that.

When he at last could make himself speak calmly, he did.

"Yes, well, unfortunately for you, bastard, you can't exactly throw me out right now, or get up to walk away. Your precious gloves aren't an option, either. So looks like you're just gonna have to listen to me."

...All right, so, maybe an argument was out of the question, but he couldn't resist a little jab or too. His next chance at seeing Mustang so helpless was probably never, and besides, the black fire of irritation that lit in the colonel's eyes at the statement _did_ make him feel better. It felt far more normal than the earlier stare of blank impassivity, anyway.

"Just don't forget you're talking to your superior officer, Fullmetal," Mustang warned, eyes still flashing, and once again Ed had to resist the urge to chuck his silver watch at the bastard's head; show him how much he cared for rank and military formality.

"I'm sure you're not gonna like what I have to say, Colonel; go ahead, court martial me." He pulled at his braid, loosening the tight band, then rubbed his hand over his mouth, trying to clear his head. He already knew what information he wanted out of the bastard; it was just finding the right way to ask it.

Because, whether or not Mustang would even answer him, Ed knew he just couldn't bring himself to snarl _so, would you kill yourself for any one of your subordinates, or does that particularly brand of stupidity only apply when we're talking about me?_ He _was_ the reason the bastard was here, and with that in mind, being a jerk to him now was just too difficult to stomach.

"Cat got your tongue, Fullmetal?" Mustang taunted, when the silence had evidently stretched on too long for his tastes, and Ed scowled, folding his arms again. Okay, screw kid gloves approach, then. Mustang didn't need it and was also being too much of an ass for Ed to be nice much longer.

"No, but looks like one got your arms."

It was Mustang's turn to scowl. "How... tactful of you."

"Military's not known for its tact, bastard. But, _anyways._ " Ed took a breath, clearing his throat, and he saw Mustang's eye narrow and jaw tighten with tension, the colonel evidently realizing the shift in the conversation from back and forth banter to serious discussion and not liking it one bit, but not in a position to stop him. Ed was hardly eager to bring it up either, but he knew it had to be done, and so with nothing more than an extra breath to prepare himself, he forged right on to dive straight in.

"What you did, when you attacked Landslide, Mustang. ...Why did you do it? ...Mustang... Why did you take that risk?"

The colonel just looked at him.

Black eyes flat, stare suddenly piercing with its weight, expression blank of any emotion whatsoever; the colonel met his gaze now with a look cold as ice, and when he spoke, his voice was the same; frigid in its certainty and painful in its lack of regret. "Need I remind you, Fullmetal, you were going to _die."_

"That's not what I'm-"

"Don't waste your time protesting. I already know what you're going to say, Fullmetal-"

"Oh, I doubt it!"

"Do not interrupt me!" Mustang snapped, eyes flashing again. He didn't wait to see his command would be followed, either, just continued forging on ahead as if he'd never stopped at all. "You're upset with me for risking myself for you. Ignoring the fact that I am _your_ superior and can act as I damn well please: why do you think you can judge what I did when, if that situation had been reversed, and it had been you trapped and watching Al about to get killed, you would not pick him every single time?"

"That's _different!"_

"Oh? Then, how, exactly?"

"Because Al's my _brother!"_ Ed gasping, fuming, fist swinging down to slam against his metal knee in a crushing blow. "Al's _my_ brother, not yours! He's _my_ younger brother, I'd never let a damn thing happen to him, but _you-_ I'm just your subordinate, and he's not even that! You don't get to care about us or, or make some bullshit sacrifice, or- you don't get to fucking die for us, Mustang!"

If it was possible for Mustang's face to look even worse than it already did, Ed's words were all that was needed to do the trick.

Because now, the colonel looked stricken.

It was only for a heartbeat and then it was gone, carefully replaced by pale impassivity, but Ed had seen it all the same, and Mustang knew he had, too, by the way his gaze turned cold and he looked away again. He looked like he'd just swallowed something very unpleasant, black eyes now appearing inordinately focused on some corner of the room the way Ed had been staring at the wall before, dead silent.

When he finally did speak again, his voice was carefully flat in an unfeeling monotone that he didn't believe for a section, obviously structured as such only to hide the emotion that lurked behind every word.

"If you feel that you are just my subordinate, then that is that, Fullmetal. ...But I meant what I just told you. I would risk my life to save you or Al, no matter the situation. And in case you forgot, _Major_ Elric, I'm a colonel. Nearly the entire military are my subordinates. As callous as it sounds, no, Fullmetal, I would not just blow myself up to help any soldier that was below me in rank. ...I did it, because it was _you._ That's _all,_ you little shit. I do not give one flying fuck about how many stars you have on your midget shoulders; all I cared about was that it was _you."_

A beat of pregnant silence, and then:

"In addition, if you _ever_ disobey my direct order to remove yourself from a dangerous situation again, I will personally rip off those stars off your shoulders and serve up fried shrimp for dinner."

And, that was that.

"Skewer you if you tried, bastard," Ed muttered, reflexive threat prompted by insult without him really thinking, mouth running without input from his brain. His head was currently still stuck, frozen in place, grappling to ignore and deny everything that Mustang had just said.

Because it was _exactly_ what he'd been afraid of.

Because, really, it would've been much easier to deal with if Mustang had just been acting as he would for any subordinate.

Even though Ed had never really believed that from the start, and it was just hearing the words out of the bastard's mouth that confirmed it.

Human knee trembling, and automail one still aching, Ed wrenched himself to his feet. He curled his arms around himself and paced away to glare out the window, letting his stubborn grimace fall the moment Mustang could no longer see it.

Dragging himself kicking and screaming along the way, Ed had finally made himself admit through gritted teeth that Colonel Bastard, never god dammed mind _how,_ had carved himself a place alongside the vanishingly small list of people that he could not stand to lose. Those agonizingly few that he would risk his life, and by default, his brother's, for. And now, right from Mustang's mouth, came the confirmation that the colonel felt the same way.

And that _was not_ okay.

Mustang wasn't supposed to _care_ about him. The people who cared about him and Al were back in Risembool. The military was different; the military was temporary and something he only bore with gritted teeth, and Mustang was no different; smug, arrogant asshole that took every opportunity to rag on him and mock him- getting rid of Mustang once and for all was supposed to be just another reason to keep on fighting to get their bodies back.

Mustang was not supposed to care about him, and he was _definitely_ not supposed to care about Mustang.

Except, somehow, it had happened, and Ed already knew from experience no matter how hard he tried to fight it, it was too late now. The one and only thing that Hohenheim had taught him was that abandonment was _wrong._ Turning to run for the hills was not right, pretending he just didn't care was wrong as well, and Ed had sworn long ago he would never let himself turn his back on those that cared about him. He knew what it felt like, to be on the other side of it.

He could never inflict it on someone else.

Which meant, of course, he had no choice but to accept this, and then fight like hell to make sure he never had to stand over Mustang and watch him struggle not to die again.

And, accepting that, Ed finally was able to find his voice again."

"Oi, Mustang." He stood still for a moment, still not turning around, struggling to find his words. "...If I asked you to promise me something... not as a colonel, I don't care that you're my stupid _superior,_ just, man to man... would you do it?"

"Man to man?" Mustang drawled. "Well, yes, but if that's what you want, I'm afraid we're one man short..."

Ed glared over his shoulder, just barely keeping his mouth short at the jab. Mustang kept up his deceptively lighthearted facade for a moment, holding his gaze, but when he saw he wasn't about to get a response or annoy his way out of this, he sighed deeply, eyes cooling. "It would depend on what you asked me," he said warily at length, eyes unreadable.

"...Next time your choice is between helping me and blowing yourself up, you find another option."

"No," Mustang said back, without even the slightest hint of hesitation or care. "I will not, Ed."

Ed sighed.

He was hardly surprised, but, well, at least he'd tried.

"Could've guessed that," he said softly, shaking his head at himself and knowing that argument was not worth it. Mustang wouldn't change his mind, and all it would do was get them both mad and shouting. There just wasn't a point in that.

He made himself turn fully again, shifting to find Mustang still looking him dead on, black eyes held in an serious stare that did not waver even once. This time Ed didn't break his gaze, meeting it instead without flinching. "I'm only going to say this once, bastard," he warned, "so listen up. ...Mustang... thank you."

There was surely an insult Mustang could've inserted there, but he did not, instead just watching him silently, dark eyes unreadable. Exhaling a deep sigh, Ed tried to stop his hands from fidgeting as he struggled to find the words. "There... there's just not a lot of people who would do what you did for me or Al. Our mom would've, but, our _father,"_ he ground the word out in severe distaste, "he- well, let's just say he wouldn't and leave it at that. So... thanks for doing it, Mustang."

Mustang looked at him for a moment, as unreadable as before. "You deserve better than your, and I use the term quite loosely, father," he said quietly at last, and Ed had to wonder just how much the man knew about his family that he hadn't said.

"Er, yeah," he grunted uneasily. "He... whatever. Anyway. I just... when I figured out what you'd done, Mustang, I... you really scared me, okay? And I just don't want to feel like that again. So don't make me. ...Please."

Black eyes widened in the slightest hint of surprise, the sharp wit of sarcasm he was so used to finding there now entirely absent, all he found waiting there just open sincerity. "Then I will try to ensure this circumstance does not repeat in the future," the colonel replied at last. "...As I've said, though, no promises."

And that was probably the best he was going to get.

Ed still found himself sighing with the relief of it, feeling as if a huge weight had finally been lifted off his chest. He hadn't exactly gotten the answer that he had came here for, but one way or another, everything had been resolved. Everything was _fine_ again, and for what felt like the first time in weeks, he was able to really smile and not remember back to the heat of crackling fire.

Yep... everything was finally going well.

Until Mustang managed to ruin the dammed moment, _of course._

"But oh, my, Fullmetal... is that your way of saying that you actually _care?_ "

For the love of _god-_

" _You_ were the one being all mushy a second ago, _you,_ not me! _You_ were the one giving the passionate, girly speech about feelings and shit, don't turn this around on me you rotten bastard!"

"I had no idea you could be so kind-"

"I'm going to fucking kill you!"

Mustang's smirk widened, and for a split second, Ed seriously considered tossing the bastard out the window. Second floor, bushes down below, he probably would survive...

Growling, he shook his head at himself and jabbed his finger in an angry point at the bastard. "Go to hell, Colonel. I'm going to find Al- he's the one who forced me down here today anyway. Maybe he'll be able to talk to you without wanting to murder you."

Mustang gave a short laugh. "As if you could pull it off," he said loftily. But, he was smiling, and even though Ed rolled his eyes at him when he turned towards the door to leave, he wasn't able to stop himself from smiling, either.


End file.
